I Smell a Rat
by Musicangel913
Summary: Harry, Draco, and Hermione are back for their third year - time is not on their side as prophecies, dark creatures, and traitors come to call. Will they make it to fourth year unscathed, or will their ever-growing problems finally catch up to them? Twisted canon, part 3.
1. Together Again

**A/N: Welcome back, everyone! This is part 3 of my twisted canon series - if you haven't read parts 1 & 2 ('Circumstances of an Unexpected Trio' & 'Secret of the Serpent's House', respectively), I highly suggest doing so before continuing on - both can be found on my profile. JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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Harry Potter lay flat on his back in the grass behind his house, staring up at the sky. High above his head, Draco Black was doing lazy loops on his broom as he played some sort of chase game with their Quaffle, but Harry didn't feel like flying at the moment – he had too much on his mind. His thoughts kept wandering back to the strange encounter in Professor Dumbledore's office near the end of their last term, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get the Sorting Hat's cryptic words out of his head:

_Three join four when six are gone  
__And the Chosen One teams with his closest  
__To bring down darkness immortal.  
__The legend in her sacred vault  
__Unlocks magic within the stone.  
__Bronze and black together in friendship,  
__Silver and gold given freely  
__In the name of the enemy's ignorance.  
__Learn who your friends really are  
__To break a blood chain forged at birth:  
__Not all is as it appears –  
__Look to the safe for the answers.  
__Blades and bonds join wands and words.  
__Ghosts will be your cloak  
__As Hogwarts herself joins the chase.  
__Let strengths be your guide,  
__Let differences unite you,  
__And evil will meet its end._

The prophecy – for that's what Dumbledore had said it was – seemed to carry rather a lot of weight, but nobody had yet made any sense of the details. It seemed that Hogwarts had a store of magic to offer, and if Harry's suspicions about the colors were correct, it had something to do with the four houses, but what, they had no idea. To make matters even more complicated, the Sorting Hat had never said anything at all before, aside from its annual performance at the Sorting Ceremony, so they knew that this had to be extremely important.

Dumbledore had sat them all down again the instant the Sorting Hat had finished speaking, only to tell them of _another _prophecy, this one made by the Hogwarts Divination professor nearly thirteen years earlier:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord has arrived in Wizarding Britain. In the darkest hour just before dawn, he will join forces with legends of old, and when the smoke clears, the final score shall be known._

The old headmaster seemed to think that the two prophecies were linked somehow, but as Harry, Draco, and Ginny had all been beyond exhausted by that point, he hadn't said much more, and they hadn't gotten a chance to talk again before term ended. The last few days had been too full of packing and reuniting with Hermione to do anything else.

Ah…Hermione. Harry smiled widely at the thought of his best friend. She'd spent several months of the previous term Petrified in the hospital wing, and it had taken quite a lot of snooping and a thrilling adventure or two to put her to rights. The bushy-haired brunette was overjoyed that they'd deciphered her messages so successfully, and she'd smirked in satisfaction when an early summer headline screamed, _"Gilderoy Lockhart: Azkaban's Newest Addition"._ Lockhart, their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, had turned out to be a fraud, having tracked down a number of prominent witches and wizards all over the world to learn of their accomplishments before casting powerful Memory Charms and attributing his victims' work as his own. Hermione, exceptionally clever girl that she was, had uncovered his secret, but Lockhart, through the influence of Tom Riddle's diary, Petrified her before she could spread the word, and it was only under intense questioning from his colleagues and Hermione's friends that Lockhart finally broke. In their opinion, he'd gotten what he deserved.

In addition to thinking about the prophecies, Harry was waiting for Hermione to come home. She and her parents had left for a month-long holiday in France less than a week after the Hogwarts Express had arrived at Kings Cross, and they were due back any day now. Although Harry had been excited for his friend – it was the biggest vacation she'd ever taken and her first trip out of Britain – the Grangers' trip to France combined with Hermione's Petrification made for the longest time they'd gone without seeing each other since they'd first met, and he was anxious for the trio to reunite once more.

Glancing once more up at his brother, Harry rolled over, propped himself up on his elbows, and began to reread the letter he'd received that morning – it was from Ginny Weasley, who was currently on holiday in Egypt:

_Dear Harry,_

_You wouldn't _believe_ some of the stuff we've seen here – Egypt is absolutely amazing! Draco probably wouldn't like it much, as it's super hot and he'd be burnt to a crisp in seconds, but still. Bill's taken us all around the pyramids, some of which had some pretty nasty curses put up when they were first built. Mum wouldn't even let me go in the last one, which I personally think is a little ridiculous – I killed a _basilisk_ at the end of last term, I think I can handle a few mutant skeletons. But no, I wasn't allowed. She also (unfortunately) stopped Fred and George's attempt at shutting Percy in a pyramid – Percy's been absolutely intolerable since he found out he wasn't made Head Boy. I can't wait to get to Hogwarts just so I can get away from him!_

_I'm going to wish you a happy birthday now, since I have no idea when I'll have a chance to write next (Bill's got us on the move from sunup to sundown), nor do I have any clue how long it takes for one of my letters to get to you from here in the first place. Hopefully we can coordinate things so that we can all meet up in Diagon Alley to get our school stuff, and if not, I'll see you all on September first! Say hi to Draco and Hermione for me._

_Cheers,_

_Ginny_

Harry laughed a little as he set the parchment aside. It sounded like the Weasley family was having a blast. Mr. Weasley had won the _Daily Prophet's_ annual grand prize drawing, and he and his wife had used a large portion of the gold to take their children to visit their eldest brother, who worked as a curse breaker for Gringotts bank. Harry was very happy for his friends – the Weasleys were extremely poor and would never have been able to afford such a trip under normal circumstances, and he knew Ginny was thrilled at the prospect of seeing Bill, who had finished Hogwarts and moved away when she was still quite small.

A shout from the front yard, followed by a voice he knew well, interrupted Harry's thoughts:

"It's good to see you too, Padfoot – where are the boys?"

In an instant, Harry was on his feet and racing towards the front of the house, Draco not far behind. Sirius and Lily were in the front yard conversing with a family of three, the youngest of whom was the very person Harry had been waiting for.

"Hermione!"

The girl in question shrieked with delight as she launched herself at her two best friends. They met halfway across the lawn where Hermione gave them each a fierce hug and a kiss on the cheek, causing both boys to turn bright red in embarrassment.

"Oh, it's so good to be back!" Hermione said, surveying them both happily. "I missed you."

"We missed you too, Maya," Harry replied once he'd found his voice again. Draco stepped forward and embraced Hermione once more.

"Welcome home, Lotte," he said. Hermione smiled fondly at them.

"I've got so much to tell you – oh, I really wish you could've been there with me!" she said as they walked towards the backyard. "Paris alone – the Eiffel Tower at night is so beautiful…and the _Louvre,_ oh, I could've spent _weeks_ in there…the gardens at Versailles…the beaches in the south of France…"

"Is that where you picked up your tan?" Draco asked. "You make me look like a ghost." Hermione laughed – she was indeed quite a bit darker than when she'd left, and as Draco was much paler than the average person to begin with, the contrast was quite noticeable.

"Yeah, it is," she said. "And let's not forget about the Wizarding districts – the one in Paris is fabulous, of course, but I think the one in Normandy was my favorite." Hermione spent a large part of the afternoon regaling her adventures for the boys, showing them dozens of photographs to supplement her stories. She'd also brought them each a poster signed by a local Quidditch team she'd seen play in her first week there, as well as large boxes of chocolates from a Wizarding shop that had won international awards every year since its founding some three hundred years prior. As they dug into the creamy treats, the friends agreed that the awards were more than deserved.

"So what's on the agenda for the rest of the summer?" Hermione asked, finally spent from all her talking.

"Padfoot wants to start with physical training," Harry replied. Sirius and Lily had been talking for quite some time about continuing the teenagers' instruction outside of school – they were limited in what magic they could teach them until the trio turned seventeen, but there were plenty of other things to learn. Some were things that Narcissa, Draco's birth mother, had asked Lily and Sirius to teach him when she'd given her son to their care, and others were things that Sirius and Lily felt would better equip their children to deal with the ever-escalating conflict in the Wizarding world. Physical training fell into this latter category.

"Sounds intense," Hermione replied, "but if it's going to help us, I'm game."

"Me too," Draco agreed. "What happens if we're in a duel and we lose our wands? We're screwed unless we have some other way of defending ourselves. I say it's a great place to start."

Sirius and Lily started their training bright and early the next morning, and for the next several weeks, Harry, Hermione, and Draco worked on their physical combat skills. Sirius taught them a number of moves that could easily incapacitate an opponent without proving fatal, and Lily gave them all valuable lessons in the art of self-defense. In between sparring sessions, Sirius worked them through drills on their broomsticks as a means of building their stamina, and Lily had them running laps and jumping hurdles in the backyard. Halfway through the summer, Remus Lupin, who was a close friend of both adults, came to visit and added his own exercises to the mix. The trio ended each day sweaty and exhausted, but they couldn't deny that the grueling sessions were working wonders for their physical fitness. By the end of the summer, they were all pretty sure they'd never been in better shape before in their lives. They'd also grown quite close to Lupin and were very excited when he said he'd be taking up the Defense post that year. He'd previously been visiting as many werewolf settlements as he could in hopes of convincing more of them to join the Order's cause – Lupin himself was a werewolf, as they'd learned not three days after they'd met him – but Dumbledore had decided that the young man had done all he could for now and would do remarkably well in the teaching position.

"I _hate_ agility drills," Hermione groaned as she flopped down in the grass one evening near the end of August.

"Which ones – the ones on the ground, or on brooms?" Draco asked.

"Both," Hermione answered. The boys laughed.

"You'll be thankful for them when you're dodging curses somewhere down the road," Harry reminded her.

"I know – I still hate them though."

"You're getting pretty good on a broom, Maya – fancy trying out for Quidditch?" Harry asked.

"Harry, you know I still can't catch a Quaffle to save my life," Hermione said with a laugh. "Considering my inability to fly one-handed for any length of time, the only position I could feasibly play would be Seeker, and there's no way I'm getting that job anytime soon."

"Of course, coz there's no way you could beat me," Harry teased.

"Oh, shut up." Hermione smacked his arm. "Prat."

"You know you love me for it."

"I love you both," Hermione said, smiling slightly. She resumed her prostrate position to stare up at the sky. "Made any headway on the prophecies?"

"Nope," Harry said. "Nothing."

"I've never heard such a detailed prophecy before," Draco commented as he laced his fingers behind his head. Harry rolled over to look at him.

"Just exactly how many prophecies have you heard?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Only the same ones you have…but still, the Sorting Hat's is _really _specific, isn't it? It seems like a lot is going to have to happen for that one to be fulfilled."

"And I wonder why the hat chose now to reveal it," Hermione mused. "I mean, prophecies are supposed to come forth at specific times, aren't they? There's obviously a reason the hat spoke when it did – clearly, the prophecy wasn't meant to be heard any time before now – but what exactly does that mean?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Harry said with a shrug. "Dumbledore said he was going to look further into this 'legend of old' – he thinks that might have something to do with the magic mentioned in the longer prophecy – and he said he'd tell us if he found anything promising."

"If nothing else, we're definitely gearing up for another interesting year," Draco said. Harry and Hermione quickly agreed, and the trio fell silent as the clouds dissipated to reveal late summer stars.


	2. The Worst Moments

The first of September was the first day in over a month that the trio didn't have to work their way through a series of grueling drills, but the chaos that preceded their departure for Kings Cross almost made up for it. As per usual, Harry had yet to finish packing his trunk when his alarm went off that morning, and he spent every spare minute after a hasty breakfast dashing up and down the stairs in search of this essay or that book. Though Draco had finished packing the night before, he kept finding random essentials that he'd forgotten and therefore reopened his trunk no less than six times in the span of half an hour, and next door, Hermione was failing miserably at trying to coax a highly grumpy Crookshanks into his wicker basket. Lily put the finishing touches on the sandwiches she always made for the children as Sirius loaded the car, which was a difficult task considering his sons' procrastination. Finally, four Potter-Blacks, three Grangers, three trunks, two owls, and one Kneazle-cat were comfortably situated in Lily's magically expanded car and on their way to London. In spite of their frenzied departure, they reached Kings Cross considerably earlier than they had the previous year, and everything was on the train with plenty of time to spare.

"Have a good term," Lily said as she hugged each of the children in turn. Hermione's parents and Sirius embraced them as well, and they exchanged farewells and wishes for a safe trip, chatting mindlessly in their last minutes together. Finally, the warning whistle blew, and Harry, Draco, and Hermione stopped inside the carriage door to wave goodbye one last time before retreating to their compartment. Hermione took pity on Crookshanks, who'd been making discontented noises all the way from Surrey, and let him out of his carrier. He leapt gracefully from the basket onto an empty seat, stretched luxuriously, and turned around three times before curling up for a nap.

"Silly cat," Hermione said fondly, stroking his thick orange fur. Crookshanks' grumblings changed to a low purr.

The boys were just setting up the chessboard when the compartment door slid open.

"Well, well, well, looks like somebody's been busy this summer!" a familiar voice said.

"Ginny!" Hermione jumped from her seat to hug her friend. "It's so good to see you!"

"Right back at you," Ginny said with a grin, stepping into the compartment and hugging Harry. "My God, what did I miss? You guys look good!" Harry laughed.

"You missed Mum and Padfoot putting us through our paces day in and day out," he replied. "We worked hard, that's for sure."

"Feeling left out, Gin?" Draco asked teasingly as he reached around Harry to embrace her as well.

"Very," Ginny said, sticking her lower lip out in an over exaggerated pout. The others burst out laughing at the look, and even Ginny couldn't hold it together for long before she dissolved into giggles.

"Oh, I missed you lot," she said with a chuckle as she sank into an empty seat. "Tell me what you've been up to, yeah?"

The trio spent nearly an hour filling Ginny in on the details of their summer – she thought their workout sessions sounded intense but agreed that the idea was a good one, and she asked if she might join them if they continued the training through the school year.

"War stands aside for no one," she said practically. "It might not happen for years, but we can't be too prepared." The others readily agreed and assured her that while they weren't sure if they'd have time to continue their exercises at school, Ginny was more than welcome to join them if they did.

After lunch, the friends had several other visitors. Neville Longbottom stopped in to say hi and stuck around for a game of Exploding Snap, and Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis greeted them enthusiastically when they passed on their way to visit friends a few compartments over. Ron Weasley's appearance was a little awkward – Ron had been attacking his fellow students through an enchanted diary for most of the previous year, and while it wasn't directly his fault, Hermione had been one of the victims.

"I…I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry," the redhead stammered as he stared at his shoes. "I'm sorry I did all of those horrible things, and I'm sorry I was too stupid to realize what was going on."

"Ron," Hermione said gently, "being controlled by Voldemort doesn't make you stupid – you heard Dumbledore, even fully qualified witches and wizards would've fallen prey to the diary the same way you did. Just…be more careful and more aware next time, alright?" The silent suggestion that their relationship wasn't severed beyond repair seemed to cheer Ron up a little, and though he didn't stay, it was with a much lighter tone that he bid them goodbye, promising to see them later at Hogwarts.

Ginny rolled her eyes as soon as her brother had shut the compartment door.

"Mum was livid when she found out," she said. "I mean, that Ron had been doing those things all year. First she went off on him for trusting the thing so blindly and never bringing it to the teachers' attention, and then she demanded to know where he'd gotten it."

"But he doesn't know, does he?" Harry asked.

"No, he doesn't," was the confirmation.

"Do you think they're connected?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"Do we think what are connected?" Draco asked.

"Well…in our first year, there was the whole thing with everyone being Imperiused – Professor Quirrell, Madam Hooch – and though there wasn't any proof, it seemed like Voldemort was involved somehow. Then we had the diary last year, Voldemort's diary, and all the problems that came with it. I can't help but wonder if the same person is orchestrating all this."

"You mean Voldemort?" Harry questioned.

"Well…either him or one of his followers," Hermione confirmed. "I mean, they never caught who was behind anything from either of the last two years…at any rate, we should probably keep an eye out for anything that seems off this year, just in case."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Hermione," said a new voice. The group turned their heads to the compartment door, where a young man in threadbare robes stood grinning at them.

"Moony!"

"That's 'Professor Lupin' to you, Mr. Potter," Lupin said with a smirk, taking an empty seat by the door and ruffling Harry's hair. "Miss Weasley, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard quite a lot about you from these three."

"Likewise," Ginny replied, accepting Lupin's handshake. "And please call me Ginny."

"What are you doing on the train?" Draco asked as he unwrapped a chocolate frog.

"Reliving my youth," Lupin replied, smiling slightly. "Dumbledore gave me the option to Floo, and I could always Apparate, but there's something about the Hogwarts Express that can't be duplicated. Toss me a Cauldron Cake, would you? I'm starved."

Their happy chatter carried on for some time until quite suddenly, the Hogwarts Express began to slow.

"We can't possibly be there yet," Hermione said, checking her watch with a frown. "We're still at least an hour away, probably more…"

"Any idea what's going on, Lupin?" Harry asked. Lupin stuck his head out the compartment door, students up and down the train mirroring his actions.

"I don't know, Harry," he said, a frown matching Hermione's on his face. "Perhaps we've broken down – it's rare, but it has happened before. I'll go ask the conductor…" The lights on the train suddenly flickered before dying completely, plunging everything into darkness.

"What on earth…"

"Ouch! Harry, that was my foot!"

"Sorry…"

"Draco, what'd you stand up for? Ow…"

"No, you can't sit here, you idiot, I'm already here!"

"Everybody stop moving!" Lupin ordered. He withdrew his wand from his cloak and muttered a quiet _"Lumos,"_ bathing the compartment in soft light from his wand tip. Everyone else echoed his movements, and soon they were all able to see again.

When the compartment door creaked open, however, they were wishing they were still in the dark.

A cloaked figure, so tall it wouldn't be able to enter the compartment without stooping, filled the doorway. They could see nothing of what lay under the cloak save for the hand that had opened the door, which was little more than decayed bone and smelled like it had recently died. Stomachs clenched in horror and disgust as the children subconsciously leaned away from the intruder. Their wand lights all went out at the same time, and somebody yelped as the creature drew in a long, rattling breath, freezing air sweeping through the tiny compartment. Only Lupin seemed unaffected by the creature's presence. Raising his wand, he said, "None of us has anything to hide – go." When the creature didn't move, he murmured a spell they couldn't hear, a gleaming silver orb bursting from his wand. The creature recoiled and fled, obviously not liking the orb, and several agonizing moments later, the lights came back on and the Express began to move once more.

* * *

_He crouched in the corner of the room, his arms over his head. At first, he thought they'd just been playing – after all, he and Dobby had done something similar just the day before, hadn't they? – but then the bookshelf had collapsed, heavy tomes raining down everywhere, and he knew it wasn't a game. He should've known earlier – Father _never_ played – but now it was too late. A painting shrieked as a stray jet of light shredded it to ribbons, and he tried to make himself even smaller, now very scared. Multicolored lights continued to fly around the room – an antique vase exploded into thousands of tiny pieces, the table crashed to the floor as its legs disappeared, and the smell of fire told him that something was burning._

_The door burst open, nearly flying off its hinges as someone entered the room, the newcomer ducking to avoid a fresh spell._

_"Lucius, where is he? Oh my God…Lucius, stop…listen to me, it's _me,_ Narcissa, your _wife!_ Draco…DRACO!"_

_Another explosion, this one much closer to his hiding place. Why was Mother yelling? She was always so calm…he didn't understand, and he was so afraid! He tried to keep quiet, he really did, but something sharp hit his shoulder and he couldn't contain his pained yelp._

_The noise was his downfall – in seconds, a barrage of spells attacked his hiding place, books and shrapnel thundering down all around him. He tried to move, but something was pinning his left leg in place, and a shooting pain shot up the appendage, causing him to whimper again. Finally, one of the spells hit home, slamming straight into his chest._

_The last thing he heard before he passed out was his mother's frantic screams._

* * *

"Harry…Draco…my God, are you alright?" Hermione had recovered first, and she now sounded very scared. Both boys were deathly white and drenched in a fine layer of sweat.

"Eat this, all of you," Lupin instructed as he passed out pieces of chocolate. "It'll help you feel better." Wordlessly, the children accepted the chocolate, and they did indeed feel like a weight had left their shoulders as soon as they bit into the sweet treat. Lupin also conjured large glasses of water for Harry and Draco, who still seemed far worse off than anyone else.

"What happened, Professor?" Ginny asked timidly. "What was that…thing?"

"That, Ginny, was a dementor," Lupin replied gravely. "They guard Azkaban and hardly ever leave, so I can't imagine what it was doing here, although it seemed to be looking for something."

"And a Patronus can drive one away?" Harry asked shakily, somehow finding his voice for the first time since the dementor's appearance.

"A proper one, yes," Lupin said, "although they're very advanced magic."

"Are you both alright?" Hermione asked the boys once again. When Draco merely drew his knees to his chest and hugged them, his eyes wide and wet, Hermione looked to Professor Lupin in a silent plea for help.

"Dementors feed on emotions," he said gently. "They suck all the happiness out of a place until its inhabitants are left with nothing but the darkest, worst moments of their lives – it's why so many of Azkaban's inmates go mad, you see. These two" – he gestured to Harry and Draco – "have a darkness in their pasts that we do not, and I suspect the dementor's presence brought some long-suppressed horrors to the surface." All was quiet for a moment as the children digested this new information.

"I heard Voldemort murdering my dad, Moony," Harry managed to say. "Heard him tell Mum to take me and get out."

"Oh, that's horrible," Ginny murmured, reaching over and clasping Harry's hand tightly. She'd felt the cold and been scared stiff when the dementor had come in, but she hadn't experienced anything even remotely close to what Harry had.

"Dragon, please talk to me," Hermione pleaded softly. She took Draco's hand in her own and ran her thumb lightly across his knuckles. Hermione had heard secondhand from Harry how insecure and scared Draco had been when he'd first come to live with them, but as she hadn't met them until three years later, she hadn't really seen the full extent of how badly Draco's first four years of life had affected him.

"She destroyed my family," he finally whispered, a few traitorous tears making their way slowly down his pale cheeks. "My mother is dead, my father almost killed _me,_ and it's all her fault." He buried his face in his knees, unable to say anything further, and Hermione wrapped her arms around him.

"Just because we're not blood related doesn't mean we're not your family," she said quietly, "and we're not going anywhere." Draco merely burrowed further into her embrace, and the only sounds in the compartment for several long minutes were sniffles as they all cried silently.

The remainder of the train ride was much more solemn and subdued, and the friends were exhausted both physically and mentally as they made their way to the carriages in Hogsmeade. First trolls, then basilisks, and now dementors…how much more could they possibly take?

* * *

**A/N: Well...not exactly a happy chapter, but it did what it had to do.**

**Thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews! Glad to see so many familiar faces continuing on to part 3, & welcome to the newcomers as well! Hopefully the story continues to entertain...loved hearing all your thoughts on the prophecy btw!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please consider leaving a review, & enjoy! :)**


	3. Padfoot and Buckbeak

The students received a surprise at dinner when Dumbledore announced the addition of not one, but two new staff members – Harry and his friends already knew about Professor Lupin's appointment, but they joined in the enthusiastic applause when the headmaster revealed that Hagrid would be taking over the Care of Magical Creatures post. Harry didn't necessarily know the gamekeeper all that well, but Lily spoke fondly of him, and Harry knew that the man loved animals more than almost anything in the world, so Hagrid definitely seemed to be a good choice for the vacancy.

Once everyone had finished eating, Dumbledore rose to speak once more.

"As you are all no doubt aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts will be playing host to several Azkaban guards this term," he began, his blue eyes lacking their usual merry twinkle. "I must caution you that it is not in a dementor's nature to understand excuses or pleading, nor are they fooled by disguises of any kind. It is imperative that no student attempt to leave the Hogwarts grounds while the dementors are here – I'll be looking to our prefects and Head students for assistance enforcing that. Give them no reason to harm you, and we'll all cross our fingers that their business with us will be through sooner rather than later."

Silence followed Dumbledore's announcement. Harry couldn't help but notice that he had yet to have a start-of-term feast go smoothly – his first year was the announcement about the out-of-bounds third floor corridor, his second he'd been hungry and irritable due to his excursion on the Knight Bus, and now there were dementors at Hogwarts. Wonderful.

The shuffling of feet and the voices of prefects calling to younger students alerted Harry to the fact that Dumbledore had dismissed them, and he hastily stood to join Hermione and the other Gryffindors on the long trek up to their common room.

"So why do you reckon they're here?" Ginny asked as she caught up to her third-year friends.

"The dementors?" Harry questioned. Ginny nodded. "Dunno. I'm certainly not a fan of the idea, but I'm sure there's a good reason for it – Dumbledore didn't look too pleased about it either, to be honest."

"Do you think they've got a lead on whoever's behind everything that's happened the past two years?" Ginny wondered.

"That's what I thought," Hermione chimed in from Ginny's other side. "I can't imagine how they'd have suddenly come up with something when they've had so little progress before, but I can't think of any other plausible explanations. They wouldn't remove dementors from Azkaban unless it was serious – they're not the type of creatures you'd want just aimlessly wandering around."

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, the guardian of Gryffindor Tower, and one of the prefects gave the new password. As they clambered through the portrait hole, Harry thought of something and muttered, "Gin, you mentioned in one of your letters that Percy was mad about not being chosen as Head Boy – what happened?" The redhead quickly motioned to a secluded corner of the common room, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear what she had to say.

"I have to admit, even I thought Percy was a shoe-in for the position for quite a while," she said once the three of them had taken seats. "He had the grades, the ambition, and that no-nonsense attitude when it came to following the rules." Hermione laughed quietly at the memory of Percy scolding students for mocking Lockhart's ineptitude the previous autumn – it was but one example of Percy's love of order and rules.

"But then last year happened," Ginny continued. "Professor McGonagall felt that Percy should've noticed that something was up with Ron – I even remember you, Harry, saying that Ron was acting moody pretty early on in the year. Percy was so absorbed in increasing his chances at being Head Boy that he failed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong with his own brother. Professor McGonagall saw that as a serious oversight on Percy's part and suggested that he might be better off remaining as a prefect versus ascending to a position of higher power."

"He must've been really upset," Hermione said.

"Oh, he was livid," Ginny agreed. "Percy's wanted to be Head Boy ever since he knew what it was – Bill, our oldest brother, was also Head Boy in his day. But I think McGonagall has a point – if he, someone who's normally so annoyingly over-observant when it comes to rule breaking, completely overlooked something so big in an immediate family member…"

"That'd be kind of dangerous if he was in a position somewhere else and failed to notice a co-worker or other more casual relationship acting strangely," Harry finished.

"Exactly," Ginny said with a nod. "The repercussions of something like that could be far worse than a couple of Petrified kids – not that that wasn't bad, of course, but I think you get what I mean."

"Yeah, we do." Hermione paused and checked her watch. "It's getting late and we have classes in the morning – we should probably head off to bed."

"No complaints there," Harry said with a laugh. "I'm beat." The friends bid each other goodnight and went their separate ways, happy to reunite with their comfortable four-posters once more.

The next morning, the Gryffindors made their way to the Great Hall with growling stomachs and an eagerness to begin the new term. Professor McGonagall handed out course schedules during breakfast, and Harry studied his closely, curious to see if he'd be starting any of his new subjects that day. His curiosity was rewarded when he saw sessions of Divination and Care of Magical Creatures in the day's schedule. He'd debated long and hard about choosing a third elective but had ultimately decided against it – in addition to classes, he still had Quidditch practice, as well as physical training if the trio could find a way to continue it, and he had wanted to be sure he could manage his workload without sacrificing too much of his sleep or sanity.

"Good day ahead?" Ginny asked as she buttered a slice of toast.

"Looks like it," Hermione replied as she perused her schedule. "We're starting some new classes today." Harry glanced over her shoulder at her timetable and frowned.

"Hermione, are you sure this is right?" he asked. "Your schedule says you have both Divination and Arithmancy at nine o'clock – that's not possible."

"Oh…don't worry about it," Hermione said hastily, pouring herself some more juice. "I worked everything out with Professor McGonagall, it'll be fine." Harry wasn't convinced but knew not to push her further – the last thing he needed was his best friend annoyed with him before they even went to class.

By lunchtime, Harry was seriously reconsidering his choice of electives. Divination that morning had been nothing short of ridiculous. The teacher, Professor Trelawney, was an extremely thin woman who wore enormous glasses that magnified her eyes to several times their actual size and a number of gauzy shawls and bangles. She spoke in a hushed, dreamy voice, and her classroom was dimly lit, smelled strongly of incense, and was extremely hot and stuffy due to the roaring fire in the tiny North Tower room. She'd had them each drink a scalding cup of tea before setting them the task of interpreting the dregs in the bottoms of their cups. Neville and Ron had joined Harry and Hermione at their table, and none of them managed to find anything of note in their teacups, their efforts further stilted by the stifling fumes assaulting their noses every time they so much as breathed. When Ron cracked and snorted with laughter at something Neville said about Hermione's teacup, Professor Trelawney glided over and snatched up the nearest cup, which happened to be Harry's.

"The falcon," she murmured quietly, "a deadly enemy."

"Well, that one's obvious," Harry muttered to Hermione under his breath. "Has she ever heard of Voldemort?" Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles. Professor Trelawney either didn't hear or chose to ignore her, continuing to turn the cup and share with the class all the horrible things she was finding within. Finally, she let out a soft gasp and dropped the cup, which shattered on the table and sprayed the unfortunate occupants with china shards and the last remnants of Harry's tea.

"Oh, it is horrible," she nearly whispered, staring at Harry as if she'd never seen anything like him before. "My dear…you have _the Grim!"_ A few people gasped, Ron included, but Harry merely looked puzzled.

"The Grim?" he asked.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" Professor Trelawney repeated, looking positively distraught. "The giant dog that is an omen…of death!"

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil let out a soft whimper at the professor's proclamation, but Trelawney had lost Harry at the word 'dog'. He'd immediately flipped through his textbook until he found a description of the thing and nearly bit his tongue trying not to laugh out loud. When they'd left the class ten minutes later and Hermione asked what was so funny, Harry merely replied, "I have in fact met the Grim – he has a penchant for pranks, enjoys irritating his children, and his name's Padfoot." Hermione joined in his laughter, and the two friends were still chuckling when they finally reached Transfiguration.

After lunch, Harry and Hermione made their way down towards Hagrid's hut for their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. A familiar voice hailed them as they got closer, and they grinned happily at seeing Draco already waiting for them – apparently, they would be having these lessons with the Slytherins.

"Good day so far?" Draco asked as they waited for the rest of the class to arrive.

"Alright, I guess," Harry replied. "McGonagall was no-nonsense as always, and Divination seems like a pointless waste of time."

"Ouch," Draco said with a grimace. "That bad, huh?" Harry quickly recounted the events of their lesson, and Draco laughed just as loudly as his friends had when Harry told him his joke about the Grim.

"I know both our parents and Dumbledore suggested Divination might help with these prophecies, but I'm not so sure after that first lesson," Harry admitted. "Guess we'll just have to see where it goes."

Just then, Hagrid came around the corner, grinning broadly.

"Afternoon!" he said cheerfully. "If you'll all jus' follow me, then…" The class trotted after him until they came to a large paddock.

"I'll just be a mo'," Hagrid called to them. He disappeared for several long minutes before returning holding a handful of leashes, attached to which were half a dozen…well, the students weren't really sure what they were. The creatures had the head and upper body of an eagle, fierce beaks and sharp talons glinting in the sun, but their hindquarters were that of horses, complete with silky tails and hooves. They were actually rather majestic, in an odd sort of way – feathers in colors ranging from steel gray to deep chestnut transitioned smoothly into hair as if there was no difference at all, and their large eyes were intelligent.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid said proudly. "Beau'iful creatures, aren' they? Step up, now, don' be shy!" The class moved cautiously toward the paddock, still unsure about getting too close.

"Now, firs' thing you gotta know about hippogriffs, is that they're proud," Hagrid said. "Don' insult 'em, coz it migh' just be the last thing yeh do." He then explained the proper way to approach a hippogriff – one must maintain eye contact while bowing, and if the hippogriff bowed back, it was safe to move forward. Harry cautiously volunteered to try first, and Hagrid separated the gray hippogriff from its fellows.

"This here's Buckbeak," he said. "Go ahead and bow, Harry." Harry did so, trying his best not to look away from Buckbeak's orange eyes. There was a tense moment when Buckbeak didn't move, but then the hippogriff sank into what was unmistakably a bow, and Harry crept forward to pet him. He was pleasantly surprised at the smooth texture of Buckbeak's coat, the warm feathers soft and fluffy under his fingers.

Emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class joined him in the paddock and began to practice on the other hippogriffs. Harry, Hermione, and Draco each took turns bowing to Buckbeak, who seemed to have taken a liking to Harry – he kept nuzzling the Gryffindor's hand with his beak as if searching for a treat or demanding further attention.

"You're quite something, aren't you?" Draco murmured as he scratched Buckbeak's neck. Buckbeak made a contented noise and nudged Draco's shoulder in reply.

"'Quite something'?" Nott repeated from his spot a few feet away. "Are you blind, Black? These things are hideous."

"No!" Hermione shouted, but it was too late. At Nott's comment, Buckbeak squawked in rage and reared, heedless of the fact that Draco was still standing in front of him. The hippogriff knocked Draco over in his haste to get to Nott, his sharp talons grazing the Slytherin's arm as he did so. Nott yelped and took off across the paddock, Buckbeak galloping along after him. The rest of the class fled to safety as the other hippogriffs nervously pawed the ground, and it took several long minutes before Hagrid managed to catch and tether Buckbeak.

"Hagrid, help!" Hermione called suddenly. She and Harry were crouched beside Draco, who hadn't yet risen. The scratch appeared to be a much deeper cut than they'd originally thought, as Draco was bleeding profusely and looked extremely pale.

"Class dismissed," Hagrid said gruffly. Without another word, he scooped Draco up into his arms and took off towards the castle.

"That oaf should be sacked!" Pansy Parkinson shouted as soon as Hagrid was out of sight.

"Shut up, Parkinson," Hermione snapped. "Hagrid gave us clear instructions – it's not his fault Nott was an idiot and didn't follow them."

"Hold your tongue, Mudblood," Nott sneered. "The gamekeeper" – he said the word as if it were something extremely foul – "is barely fit to be that, never mind a teacher. It's not my fault your stupid little boyfriend was in the way when the beast attacked."

"The hippogriff was attacking _you_," Hermione hissed, deliberately ignoring Nott's last comment. "It's _your_ fault Draco's hurt – I thought Slytherins looked out for their own, no?" Nott flushed angrily.

"Watch it, Granger," he snarled. "You've been sticking your nose where it doesn't belong for too long now – one of these days, you'll be sorry. After all, Slytherins definitely don't look out for Gryffindors, especially not the likes of _you._" Hermione merely rolled her eyes and headed back towards the castle with her housemates, not deigning to satisfy him with a reply.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter took a bit - I was away for my best friend's wedding all weekend (which was fabulous, by the way), & then I had a bit of trouble getting this chapter to go where I wanted it to. Getting out of ruts is always fun...not.**

**Thank you much for my new follows/faves/reviews! I really do appreciate them all.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think, & enjoy! :)**


	4. Bandages and Boggarts

As soon as classes finished for the day, Harry and Hermione hurried to the hospital wing. They hadn't been scheduled to have any further classes with the Slytherins that day, but they hadn't run into Draco in the corridors either, and they were anxious to find out how he was doing after his encounter with the hippogriff. They reached the ward and entered quickly, only to stop short when they realized Draco wasn't alone.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Hermione demanded, eyes narrowed at the girl sitting by Draco's bed. Draco himself appeared to be either asleep or unconscious, his eyes closed and his body unresponsive.

"Do I need a reason?" Pansy Parkinson retorted, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. "You're the one who said Slytherins look out for their own, Granger."

"Be that as it may," Hermione said, cautiously creeping forward, "I still don't understand why _you_ are here."

"And what makes you think I'll bother to tell you?" Pansy sniffed, tossing her dark hair and turning up her pug-like nose. "There are some things I can't imagine an uncivilized Mudblood like you would understand."

"Miss Parkinson, I will not stand for such language in my ward!" Harry and Hermione jumped – they'd both whipped out their wands at Pansy's words, but none of the teenagers had noticed Madam Pomfrey's appearance. She held a slightly smoking goblet of bright green potion and looked furious.

"You can either mind your tongue, or you can leave," Madam Pomfrey instructed. "That goes for all of you – this is a hospital wing, and I'll not have you causing a commotion when there's healing to be done." The matron bustled over to Draco's bed and deposited the goblet onto the little nightstand beside it, instructing them to have the blonde drink the potion if he woke while they were still there.

"Yes ma'am," Harry murmured. Hermione also nodded her assent, but Pansy merely sniffed again and vacated her chair.

"I guess I'll be going, then," she said haughtily. "I certainly shan't remain in such undesirable company any longer." Grabbing her bag, which had been sitting on the floor next to her chair, she swung it over her shoulder before sneering at them one last time and stalking out of the ward without another word.

"What's got her wand in a knot?" Harry muttered as he and Hermione took chairs on either side of Draco's bed. "'Undesirable company,' honestly – if anyone's undesirable, it's her."

"You got that right," a third voice chimed in. The Gryffindors turned to see Draco staring at them, now wide-awake.

"Draco…have you been awake this entire time?" Hermione asked incredulously. Draco smirked.

"Of course I have," he replied, "but did you honestly think I was going to let Parkinson know that? She'd been sitting here for nearly half an hour by the time you two showed up, and she did nothing but prattle on the entire time – you guys saved me, really."

"I still don't get why she was here," Hermione muttered as she searched for something in her bag. "Blaise or Tracey I could understand – they're your friends – but Parkinson?" Harry took advantage of Hermione's distraction to give Draco a significant look – he had a potential answer to Hermione's question, but he certainly wasn't going to voice it in front of her, even if he turned out to be completely wrong. As if confirming his suspicions, Draco rolled his eyes and nodded.

"How's your arm?" Harry asked, hastily changing the subject. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to notice that something was off.

"Eh, it's alright," Draco replied, scooting himself up to a sitting position and pushing down the sheets to reveal a thick bandage. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about five minutes, of course – which was good coz she got rid of the pain, it was hurting like hell until then – but Buckbeak's talon went deep enough to tear muscle, so she wants me to stay in here overnight to make sure everything knits back together properly." He reached for the goblet of potion and downed it in one go, making a face as he quickly chased the medicine with some water. "Ugh, this stuff's disgusting – right up there with Polyjuice. I'm gonna kill Nott when I see him next, housemate or no housemate." The Gryffindors chuckled darkly, just as eager as their Slytherin comrade to see justice done.

"I should probably get going," Hermione said then, sounding a tad regretful. "I've got a lot of work to do and can't afford to fall behind this year."

"You mean thanks to your impossible schedule?" Harry quipped. Hermione glared at him.

"It's not impossible, just a tad difficult," she huffed. "I'll make it work."

"Maya, I was just joking," Harry said, shaking his head at her and reaching over Draco to give her arm a squeeze. "I know if anyone can handle it, it's you."

"I'll see you at dinner, then," Hermione replied with a small smile of her own. "Hope to see you tomorrow at breakfast, Dragon." She hugged each of the boys in turn, taking care to avoid Draco's injured arm, and headed off with a wave.

As soon as Hermione was gone, Harry turned back to his brother.

"Alright, spill," he demanded, leaning his chair back on two legs. "Parkinson likes you, doesn't she?"

"Ugh, Harry," Draco groaned, running his hands over his face, "Did you really have to say that out loud?"

"It was kind of the obvious conclusion, mate," Harry said with a shrug. "How long has this been going on?" Draco bit his lip and frowned in thought.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it started when I gave my housemates that little talking-to last year," he finally said. "For the rest of the year, while it still seemed like she hated me, she didn't outwardly show it anymore, and she'd snap at anyone who dared try to cross me – it was really irritating, since I'd already taken care of the situations whenever she'd decide to butt in, but I mostly just ignored her – it's way better than having to listen to her talk, anyway."

"Agreed," Harry said, gesturing for Draco to continue.

"This year…Merlin, this was only our first day of classes, but it feels like we've been back so much longer! Parkinson actively tried to talk to me at the feast and in the common room last night, as well as during classes throughout the day, and her mannerisms towards me have completely changed."

"She hasn't tried to…do anything, has she?" Harry asked hesitantly. The thought of girls in that context still weirded him out a bit, and this was Pansy Parkinson.

"Thankfully, no," Draco said with a shudder, "but I wouldn't put it past her to try. I've seen her go into 'openly flirtatious' mode before, and trust me, it's definitely not something I want to see directed towards me."

"Well, obviously," Harry muttered, so quietly that Draco almost didn't hear him. He smirked when his brother flushed and didn't say anything – Harry wasn't going to bring it up now, but he had a feeling he knew who Draco would rather have crushing on him, and it certainly wasn't Pansy. Instead, he said, "You'd better do something about it before she takes anything further than you want her to."

"Like what?" Draco asked exasperatedly. "This is Pansy Parkinson we're talking about."

"And you're Draco Black," Harry reminded him. "Black – and Malfoy – trumps Parkinson any day of the week. You're a Slytherin, so if you have to, act like one." Draco looked thoughtful.

"You're right," he said. "I've already proven once that I can get a whole bunch of Slytherins to back off – if I can do it with the lot of them, I can do it with Parkinson."

"That's the spirit," Harry said, clapping his brother on his good shoulder. He checked his watch and frowned. "I should probably get going – Hermione wasn't kidding when she said we have a lot of work to do. I'll try to stop by after dinner, but if I don't, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright," Draco said as he readjusted his pillows and picked up a book. "See you later, Harry."

* * *

Two days later, the Gryffindor third-years had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the term. Harry and Hermione eagerly led their housemates to the classroom, excited to see what Professor Lupin had in store for them – if his lessons were even half as interesting as the work they'd done with him over the summer, it would prove to be an exciting year. They'd all settled themselves into their seats by the time Professor Lupin arrived.

"Good afternoon, class," he said, striding leisurely to the front of the room. "Good afternoon, and welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Remus Lupin, and I'm looking forward to getting to know each of you better. We'll be tackling a number of different subjects this term, starting with a series of creatures I think it'd be helpful for you to recognize. Today's will be a practical lesson, so please bring your wands and follow me – you can come back to collect the rest of your things at the end of class." The Gryffindors broke into excited whispers at Lupin's statement – they'd never had a practical Defense class before, so this was bound to be interesting. One by one, they followed their new teacher out of the classroom and through the castle. Professor Lupin finally stopped when he reached the staff room door.

"Inside, please," he requested, holding the door open for the class. They filed in slowly and formed a semi-circle, unsure of what else to do. Professor Lupin did a quick roll call before turning their attention to an old wardrobe on the far wall of the room. As soon as the Gryffindors focused on the wardrobe, it shuddered violently, rocking slightly on its two front legs and hitting the wall again with a loud _thunk._

"What you just heard," Lupin began, smiling a little at his students' odd expressions, "was a boggart, our first subject of study. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?" As was often the case, Hermione raised her hand first.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said when Lupin motioned for her to answer. "Boggarts take the form of whatever they think will frighten us most."

"Excellent answer, Hermione," Lupin said, giving her a warm smile. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, we have an advantage over the boggart before we even begin – has anyone spotted it?" Harry thought he had an idea and raised his hand.

"Erm – there are a bunch of us, so it won't know what form to take?" he offered.

"Precisely," Lupin replied. "Take another ten points. It's always best to bring a friend when tackling a boggart, as you'll have a better chance at confusing, and therefore overpowering, the creature. For you see, the key to defeating a boggart is _laughter_ – there is a spell, but the humor behind the spell is what does the trick. You must think of a way to make your boggart amusing and focus on that change while saying the spell." He then taught them the spell itself – _'Riddikulus!' _– and gave them a minute to think about the form their boggart might assume, and how they might make it funny. Harry frowned, trying to block out the mutterings coming from Ron on his right side and Hermione on his left. What form would his boggart take? His thoughts immediately went to the dementor from the train – that definitely qualified as scary, but how could he make it comical? He was still thinking about it when Professor Lupin called the first student forward and unlocked the wardrobe.

Neville happened to be first in line, and as a result, the boggart took the form of someone the Gryffindors all knew quite well – Professor Snape. It wasn't exactly a secret that the sour-tempered man set Neville on edge, as the boy routinely had trouble in Potions class and never managed to respond to Snape's questions without stammering. It was a shame, really – Neville performed reasonably well in his other classes and outshone nearly everyone in Herbology, but the Slytherins routinely tormented him for his inability to hold himself together in Potions. Neville was working hard to rectify the situation, but he still had a long way to go. Judging by the determined look on his friend's face, Harry guessed that Neville really wanted to use this moment to prove himself, even if the Snape stalking towards him wasn't real.

_"Riddikulus!"_ Neville managed, and Snape nearly tripped on the long dress he now wore. The garment was bright green, matronly, and overly frilly, and accompanied by a large hat topped with a stuffed vulture and an enormous crimson handbag. Harry recognized the garb as similar to that frequently worn by Neville's grandmother, whom he'd met a few times when she'd come to tea, and couldn't help but laugh. The chuckles from his classmates soon turned into guffaws as boggart-Snape turned bright red, and Lupin hurried the next student forward.

The next several minutes had the Gryffindors alternating between gasping in fright and clutching their sides in laughter as the boggart changed form again and again. A wailing banshee lost her voice, a large rat chased its tail in a circle, monsters under the bed became friendly little Crup puppies that yipped and jumped…

"It's confused!" Lupin shouted encouragingly as the class laughed once more. "Ron, forward!" Ron paled, and Harry immediately understood his roommate's anxiety as the boggart transformed into a monstrous Acromantula, six feet tall and easily the biggest spider any of them had ever seen. A few people gasped and automatically stepped back, and Ron seemed temporarily frozen until Harry prodded him in the back with his wand. Snapping to his senses, Ron cried, _"Riddikulus!" _and the spider's legs vanished, leaving its hairy black body to roll uselessly across the floor.

Harry stepped up next and the spider vanished, along with all external noise. The room grew immensely cold as the dementor glided forward, its scabby hand slowly extending from beneath its cloak. Harry gulped loudly, trying to ignore the rushing in his ears and the echoes of his father's death that he was now beginning to hear.

"It's just a boggart," he thought to himself. "You can do this." He swallowed heavily once more, raised his wand, and cried, _"Riddikulus!"_ The sun came out and brightly colored flowers and chirping birds surrounded the dementor, which balked at the light and warmth. When a rainbow joined the overly cheerful scene, the dementor suddenly melted into a nondescript puddle on the floor, à la the Wicked Witch of the West.

"Take that," Harry thought to the puddle, which smelled faintly of licorice and dark chocolate.

As soon as Harry stepped back, the sunny tableau vanished. At first, the class looked around in confusion, unsure of where the boggart had gone, but a creak from the wardrobe door caught their attention, and Harry gasped in shock at the figure who emerged.

It was Draco.

Boggart-Draco was a little older than the real person – probably sixteen or seventeen, if his matured features and taller stance were anything to go by – but it was unquestionably him. There was definitely something wrong, though. This Draco carried none of the warmth or easygoing humor of Harry's brother, and he sneered at the Gryffindors as he sauntered towards them like a panther stalking its prey. By far the worst part was his eyes, which were cold and unfeeling, cutting straight through them like steel. Boggart-Draco twirled his wand casually between his fingers, coming to a halt in front of Hermione.

_Hermione…_Harry's heart jolted when he realized this was her boggart, and he realized he didn't want to witness whatever was about to happen. He'd expected something related to failure – Hermione had incredibly high standards and was always hardest on herself when she didn't meet them – but this? This was bound to be much, much worse.

"D-Draco," Hermione stammered, her eyes wide and scared.

"Since when do you have the right to call me by my given name, Granger?" he growled in response. Hermione gasped.

"I…I…"

"Save it," boggart-Draco spat, glaring at Hermione with a look Harry hoped never to see on his brother's face again. "I've told you before, but clearly, the message hasn't sunk into that thick head of yours. I am a Malfoy, and you are nothing." He paused and unbuttoned his left sleeve, pushing back the expensive material to reveal the Dark Mark, the sickening black tattoo a stark contrast to his pale skin.

"I am a Malfoy," he repeated, raising his wand to point it at Hermione, "and you are _nothing,_ Granger – nothing but a filthy little _Mudblood."_

Lupin leapt between Hermione and the boggart, its form immediately shifting to that of what Harry recognized as the full moon before Lupin forced it back into its prison, but the damage was done. The Gryffindors stared in shocked silence at the now-closed wardrobe, the only sound in the room Hermione's sobs as she slowly sank to the floor.

* * *

**A/N: Here's chapter 4! I've had this one - well, the latter half of it, anyway - in my head for quite a while, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. Not quite sure yet what's in store for the next chapter, but hopefully it won't be quite as depressing as the last few!**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews! I love hearing what you guys think of my story (& would always love to hear more - just saying.)**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	5. An Unexpected Ally

"Class dismissed," Lupin said quietly. Even after his declaration, however, it was still a very long time before anybody moved, and most of them did so reluctantly. Harry had dropped to his knees beside Hermione and wrapped his arms around his distraught friend, but he wasn't sure what to do besides hold her as her frame shook with silent sobs. Seeing Harry's slightly panicked expression, Lupin nodded encouragingly as if to tell the dark-haired boy that he really was doing the best he could for the time being. Harry managed a weak smile in return, marginally tightening his hold on Hermione as he did so. The rest of the Gryffindors had slowly begun to make their way out of the room, but a few hesitated in the doorframe, looking back at Harry with questions in their eyes.

"I can take care of her," Harry said, "but thanks for the offer." Neville, who was at the front and looked concerned, nodded and ushered the stragglers out of the classroom.

"If you need anything, just let me know," he said, then gently closed the classroom door.

As soon as everyone else was gone, Harry slumped fully to the floor, Hermione's form curled up in his lap. Seeing her in such a state almost made him want to cry too, and Draco…oh, _Merlin._ How was he ever going to tell his brother about this? _Should _he tell his brother about this? Hermione's boggart was a big deal, and as much as Harry hated to even consider the fact, it wasn't entirely impossible either. War did funny things to people, and Draco's birth family had a lengthy history with the Dark Arts…Harry shook his head violently in an attempt to dispel those thoughts.

"No," he thought to himself. "Mum and Padfoot brought us up right, and Draco would have to be under a curse before he'd ever say anything like that to Hermione." Harry hemmed and hawed for several more minutes before deciding not to say anything to Draco just yet – after all, it was Hermione's boggart, not his, so if anyone should pass along the story, it was her. His next problem, then, was keeping the rest of the Gryffindors quiet – most of them wouldn't say anything, he knew, but Lavender Brown was the biggest gossip in their year, if not in all of Hogwarts, and she'd be extremely likely to let something slip, either by accident or on purpose. If he spoke to her sooner rather than later, maybe he could minimize the damage. Deciding that this was the best course of action, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione.

"Hey," he said softly, nudging her shoulder, "you feeling any better?" Hermione turned her head, her big brown eyes staring up into Harry's green ones, and shrugged.

"I suppose," she whispered weakly. "It was just so awful…and what if…what if…" she trailed off and sniffed loudly, a few fresh tears leaking out and trickling down the sides of her face into her hair.

"Hey, it's ok," Harry said, brushing the tears away with his fingers and hating that he knew exactly what Hermione's unfinished thought meant. "It's not true now, and we can make sure it's not true ever, alright? You know Drake would never willingly do that to you." He slowly ran his hand through her wild curls, gently massaging her scalp as he did so. Hermione shuddered at his touch and slowly calmed down, her breathing gradually evening out as she sighed heavily.

"Think you're ready to head back to Gryffindor Tower?" Harry asked. "We still have a little time before dinner yet."

"I…yeah, I think so," Hermione finally said. Harry helped her to her feet, and the two friends made their way back up to the seventh floor. Harry gave the password, and they were soon back in the common room, where a handful of their year mates sat contemplating essays or talking with friends.

"I'm gonna head upstairs for a bit," Hermione said quietly. Harry nodded and gave her one last hug before she turned and made her way up the spiral staircase to the girls' dormitories. Just before she disappeared from view, she stepped aside to let someone come down, and Harry wasn't sure to be relieved or irritated at the sight of Lavender and Parvati, the former of whom gave Hermione a lingering look as they passed.

"Ooooh, she doesn't look good, does she?" Lavender said, her question a little too loud to be polite. The two girls aimlessly wandered through the common room, eventually coming to rest behind one of the large sofas near the fire. "I mean, that boggart was creepy, I'll admit, but I think there are worse things to be upset about – I mean, did you _see_ Black? God, if that's what he's gonna look like in a few years I might have to reconsider my ban on Slytherins…"

Harry saw red, but it was someone else who snapped, "Lavender, shut up." All heads in the immediate vicinity – essentially all of the Gryffindor third-years save Hermione – turned and stared in shock at the speaker. If Harry hadn't seen Eloise Midgen's lips move, he wouldn't have believed her to have spoken – she almost _never_ talked, not even in class, unless it was absolutely necessary. Eloise was extremely shy and self-conscious, traits that were only exacerbated by her excessive acne, which had flared up in earnest at the start of term and earned her endless rounds of snide comments and other cruel tormenting from her fellow students. It was kind of a shame, Harry thought, as she was otherwise kind of cute – wide ribbons held back golden curls that kissed her jaw in a style not unlike Shirley Temple, her blue-green eyes were big and expressive, and a dusting of freckles decorated her nose. He didn't really know much else about her, but now that she'd spoken up against Lavender, he definitely wanted to hear what she had to say.

"What did you say?" Lavender asked, sounding dumbstruck.

"I said shut up," Eloise repeated, her face flushing bright red at all the attention. "How can you make such a thoughtless comment when Hermione's obviously really upset about this? Anybody with half a brain can see how close she and Draco are – she's got to be really torn up after having heard him say such horrible things, even if they weren't real – and all you can think about are his looks? Good grief, Lavender, stop being so selfish and grow up." As soon as she finished speaking, Eloise clapped her hands over her mouth as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done, but the hard look in her eyes told everyone that she didn't regret one word.

"Thank you, Eloise," Harry said quietly. Eloise blushed even harder, if that were possible, but managed a small nod.

"Do you think…is she ok, up there by herself?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate the company, if you wanted to go try to talk to her," Harry replied. Knowing she had an ally – or maybe even a friend – would make Hermione feel loads better, he was sure.

"Ok then." Eloise rose from her chair, glared once more at Lavender, and hurried up the staircase, no doubt relieved to be rid of all the attention.

"Well, I never!" Lavender exclaimed. "Who knew she was so rude?"

"Lavender, honestly?" Neville said exasperatedly. "Eloise was _right!_ Your comments were completely uncalled for and beyond inappropriate, and this is _definitely_ not something you should be spreading around!" The rest of the third-year boys immediately voiced their agreement before Lavender rounded on Parvati.

"Can you please tell them they're being ridiculous?" she demanded, impatiently pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Parvati sighed.

"No, I can't, Lav," she said. "I'm your best friend, but that…that was just mean. It would've been bad enough if you'd said it to Hermione's face, but the fact that you said all that behind her back, when she wasn't here to defend herself, is even worse. Hermione's a nice girl – why would you do that to her?" Shaking her head so her long, dark plait swung gently against her back, the Indian witch made for the portrait hole.

"I'm going to spend some time with Padma," she said to Lavender. "Maybe you should take some time to think about things, yeah?" She turned to Harry. "Harry, I'm really sorry – I do hope Hermione's ok." With a last wave to the group, Parvati disappeared through the portrait hole.

"Ugh!" Lavender groaned, throwing her hands up in the air. "Alright, I'm sorry. That was stupid of me to say, and I won't do it again."  
"Say it like you mean it, why don't you?" Dean muttered sarcastically.

"Seriously, Lavender, keep your mouth shut about this," Harry warned when she made to protest. "It's not your business, and we definitely don't need some screwed-up twist on this going around the school, got it?" When Lavender looked doubtful, he added, "I won't hesitate to do something about it if you spread rumors, Lav. Hermione's my best friend, and she shouldn't have to deal with crap like that. You don't see any of us making fun of your boggart, so back off about hers."

"I…ok," Lavender said, finally having the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry I said anything." She bit her lip and started to flee up the stairs before realizing that Hermione and Eloise would be in the dormitories – quickly correcting her mistake, she left through the portrait hole instead.

"Drives me up the wall, that one," Harry grumbled, massaging his temples with his fingertips as he sank back into his chair.

"Do you think she'll keep quiet?" Neville asked, sounding a bit worried.

"After that talkin'-to, yes," Seamus said. "Lavender might love a bit o' gossip, but spreadin' rumors isn't worth havin' her whole house mad at her."

"Let's hope so, then," Harry said as Eloise came back downstairs, followed closely by Hermione. He was relieved to see a small smile on the latter's face and nodded his thanks to Eloise once more. "I don't fancy landing myself in detention just because I was forced to hex her."

* * *

**A/N: Leave me a review, pretty please? I love hearing your thoughts!**

**This chapter kind of came out of nowhere - it was literally an 'it-came-to-me-in-the-shower' chapter - but I liked the idea, so I went with it. Hahaha**

**Thanks so much for the follows/faves/reviews! Loved all the responses I got to the last chapter - & there's plenty more drama to come, I can promise you that!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	6. Torn

The atmosphere in the Gryffindor third-year girls' dormitory was rather tense that night. Hermione, though she'd cheered up a bit from Eloise's brief visit earlier in the day, was still upset about her boggart, and Lavender was annoyed about the goings-on in the common room. Eloise was her usual silent self, and Parvati was also being unusually silent, as she still thought Lavender was in the wrong for speaking so flippantly about a fellow classmate's pain. As a result, the room was almost too quiet, and the girls could hear every shuffle of footsteps, every rustle of fabric as they readied themselves for bed.

"Night, everyone," Parvati called softly as she burrowed under her quilts. The other three girls responded with various degrees of enthusiasm, and the room darkened marginally as Parvati's light extinguished itself. Minutes later, deep, even breathing told them that Parvati was sound asleep.

"Eloise?" Hermione asked once she was sure Lavender was otherwise occupied in the bathroom.

"Yeah?" The curly-haired girl turned her attention to Hermione, seeming a little confused at having been addressed directly.

"I just wanted to say…well, thanks," Hermione muttered. "Thanks for coming up here earlier and talking to me, I mean."

"Oh…it was really no problem," Eloise insisted. "I could tell you were really upset, and I figured…well, I guess I thought maybe you'd want some company." She looked embarrassed.

"No really, it meant a lot," Hermione said earnestly. "It helped to have someone there who knew…what had happened."

"Hermione, I think you need to talk about it – more importantly, I think you need to tell him," Eloise said quietly.

"Who?"

"Draco. You need to tell Draco."

"Oh, no, I can't!" Hermione moaned. "It hurt so badly, it still hurts, and I can't bear the thought of…God, Eloise, I don't know what would happen if I told him…" She continued mumbling incoherently, her hands nervously twisting and her eyes beginning to water even though she thought she'd cried all she possibly could've earlier.

"You need to tell him," Eloise repeated, calmly but firmly. "I'm sure he'll be hurt initially, but I think he'd much rather hear it from you than from someone else, don't you think? If you're as close as I think you are, he'll be there for you."

"I…you're right," Hermione said reluctantly. "I do have to tell him…but I'm not ready to." She shook her head as if to emphasize the point. "I don't think I can tell him about it – tell him properly – until I've calmed down myself. I will tell him, I just…need to sort some things out first, I guess." Hermione turned back her duvet and crawled under the covers, clucking her tongue softly as she did so. Crookshanks answered her call immediately, leaping gracefully onto the bed and settling himself at his mistress's feet.

"All right, then," Eloise conceded as she mimicked Hermione's movements, turning off their lights once she was comfortable. "I hope you feel better soon. Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight," Hermione replied sleepily, already halfway comatose.

Eloise sighed softly as the room went dark and Lavender emerged from the bathroom and carefully picked her way back to her bed. She wasn't about to voice her final thought aloud – for as long as they'd roomed together, she and Hermione barely knew each other – but she couldn't help but think that Hermione's decision to wait was a terrible mistake.

* * *

Harry groaned quietly and flexed his sore fingers as he attempted to revise an exceptionally lengthy History of Magic essay – why Professor Binns insisted they write so much on something so boring was beyond him, but the fact remained that the essay was due the next morning. The extremely awkward silence didn't help matters – it had been over two weeks since the boggart incident, and as far as he knew, Draco remained ignorant. Harry had no idea why Hermione was delaying telling Draco what had happened, but he had a sickening feeling that the longer she put off telling him, the worse the end result would be. He could understand her fear, obviously, but keeping Draco in the dark really wasn't a good idea. In direct contrast with her desire to keep the whole affair secret, Hermione had grown steadily more nervous around Draco as the days passed, and the tension was now so thick it was almost palpable.

"Hey, I just realized I never asked," Draco said conversationally, "what did you guys think of Moony's boggart lesson?" Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him and hoped Draco hadn't noticed.

"It was interesting," Harry offered. "I thought it was neat to see the effects of the spell on them."

"Yeah? I thought so, too," Draco agreed. "Some of them weren't very creative – Crabbe and Goyle obviously didn't come up with anything good – but most of them were great. What did you do to yours?"

"Erm…well, mine was that dementor," Harry said, not needing to fake the shudder that raced up his spine at the mere thought of the creature. "I assaulted it with sunshine and rainbows and it melted." Draco laughed heartily.

"Brilliant!" he said. "If only we could do that in real life, huh? Everything I've read says the Patronus Charm is really hard…Lotte, how about you? How'd you get rid of your boggart?"

"It doesn't matter, does it?" Hermione replied stiffly.

"Er…well, I was just curious," Draco said, looking a little taken aback at her cold reply. "My thought is something related to failing…"

"Well, you thought wrong!" Hermione nearly snapped. "Just drop it, alright?"

"Lotte, what's wrong?" Draco asked, now looking very concerned. "I'm sorry if I upset you – I certainly didn't mean to – are you ok?"

"Oh, yes, peachy," Hermione retorted, the words pouring out before she could stop them. "How else would I describe myself? I'm swamped with enough homework that I won't be getting to bed before midnight any night this week, Trelawney's driving me up the wall with her bogus nonsense, I'm still waiting for some horrible backlash related to our first Care of Magical Creatures class, I'm trying to find time to keep up with physical training, Lavender's being a right pest, and I'm haunted by the image of someone I love becoming a Death Eater and calling me a filthy little Mudblood. Oh, yes, I'm just _perfect!"_ Hermione's voice rose steadily until she was nearly shouting by the end of her tirade, and as such she almost didn't realize exactly what she'd let slip – almost. However, as her mind processed what she'd just said, her eyes widened and she clapped her hands to her mouth.

"You…what?" Draco whispered.

"Oh, no…" Hermione muttered, her eyes watering rapidly. With a single heaving sob, she wrenched herself away from the boys and tore from the room before either of them could stop her.

"Harry," Draco said slowly, "what did she mean – that last part especially? 'The image of someone I love becoming a Death Eater and calling me a Mudblood'?"

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his perpetually messy hair. He really didn't want to be having this conversation right now – if he were truthful, he didn't want to have this conversation _ever_ – but Hermione had let the cat out of the bag, albeit accidentally, and he couldn't keep his brother in the dark any longer.

"She was talking about you," he said finally. Draco's eyes widened almost comically, though there was nothing remotely funny about the situation.

"I…she…_what?"_

"She was talking about you," Harry repeated with a sigh. "Hermione's boggart – it was you. You were a bit older – sixth- or seventh-year, maybe – you had the Dark Mark, and you told her…well, you told her you were a Malfoy and that she was nothing to you…nothing but a…"

"Oh, sweet Salazar," Draco muttered, dropping his head into his hands. Harry hadn't finished his sentence, but he didn't need to – Hermione had finished it already before she'd fled, and the slur still hung in the air like something foul they couldn't escape.

"I…yeah," Harry agreed, not really knowing what else to say. What else _could_ he say?

"Is that why she's been so off around me lately?" Draco asked quietly, trying very hard to keep his voice even.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "She was…she was a mess after it happened, Drake, she really was. She broke down completely right there in the middle of class and spent most of the rest of the day in her room. She didn't want to tell you because she didn't want to hurt you."

"And she thought it wouldn't hurt when I eventually found out?" Draco asked bitterly, a few tears escaping despite his best efforts to hold them back. "Just the thought of doing something like that to her kills me, Harry. The fact that she's afraid I will…God, what am I supposed to say to that?"

"I don't really know," Harry said honestly. "I don't really know."

* * *

The rest of September and most of October passed uneventfully. Harry was immensely glad that Quidditch practices had started up again, as the tension between his friends was still much too high – Draco had cornered Hermione as soon as he could following her outburst and convinced her to talk, but as much as he'd comforted her, Hermione couldn't shake the image of his older self being so horrible, and so they danced around each other as if on thin ice every time they found themselves together. Harry wished they'd cut it out, as it was getting old fast, but he didn't know how to tell them so without making things worse. As a result, Draco took to spending a lot more of his free time with Blaise and Tracey in the Slytherin common room or in the Room of Requirement, which the trio had transformed into a replica of their physical training ground and visited whenever they could.

In stark contrast to her delicate interactions with Draco, Hermione's relationship with Eloise was growing steadily. Ever since the blonde girl had reached out her hand in companionship, Hermione had gone out of her way to include her – she frequently sat with her at meals, partnered with her in class, and included her in study sessions, and the two girls often chatted late into the night on weekends. During these chats, Hermione learned that Eloise had an older brother and a dog, she loved to bake, and she'd traveled extensively with her father, who worked for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Her favorite subject was Transfiguration, even though she found it exceptionally difficult, and she had little love for Herbology – Eloise hated dirt, especially the worms that called it home.

"I don't get it," Eloise commented as they readied themselves for the Halloween feast.

"What don't you get?" Hermione asked. She frowned as she surveyed herself in the mirror and attempted to tame a stray hair into place, but quickly gave up.

"Why you're friends with me," Eloise said as she ran her hands over her robes. "I mean, you're best friends with Harry Potter himself, you're the top student in our year, brilliant at everything you try, and you're one of the most amazing people I know. Me, I'm thoroughly average."

"Eloise, don't degrade yourself," Hermione chided, leading the way down the spiral staircase. "You're a lovely person, really. You're caring, you're sweet, and you put up with my carrying on about anything and everything – I'm lucky to call you my friend, and don't you dare say otherwise." Eloise flushed crimson at Hermione's words but smiled broadly. She'd never tell Hermione outright, as she didn't want the other girl to think she was looking for pity, but she'd never really had a friend before, and she considered _herself_ lucky to have found such a wonderful companion in the bushy-haired brunette.

"Hey, Hermione!" Ginny called as she caught sight of them in the common room. "Hi, Eloise. You two ready to head down?"

"Obviously!" Hermione replied with a laugh. She looped one arm through Ginny's and the other through Eloise's. "Is your brother still mad at me? I told him I was really sorry…" Just the day before, Crookshanks had chased Scabbers, Ron's rat, around the common room until by chance, someone had opened the portrait hole and the two animals had scampered straight out of Gryffindor Tower. Crookshanks had returned, but Scabbers hadn't been seen since, and Ron was convinced that he'd become a snack for the ginger cat.

"Oh, goodness," Ginny said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Ron can be quite pathetic sometimes, can't he? Honestly, Scabbers is – was? – old and useless anyway. If he's really gone, it's not that big of a loss."

"I'd still feel bad if Crookshanks really has eaten him, though," Hermione insisted. "I know Ron and I aren't close or anything, but our relationship is agreeable enough, and I'd feel bad for upsetting him."

"Look, if it means that much to you, tell him," Ginny said. "I'm sure he'll stop moping long enough to realize that you really do feel bad and won't blame you." Hermione felt a little better at that, and the conversation turned to lighter topics as the Gryffindors made their way downstairs.

As usual, the Halloween feast was an exceptional event. The house-elves outdid themselves with the food, and several staff members took turns reading the children ghost stories, which were unlike anything most of them had heard before. With the chilling ending of 'The Mad Hag's Revenge' still resonating through their minds, the students dragged themselves back towards their respective common rooms.

When Harry and Hermione reached the hallway leading to Gryffindor Tower, they found it packed with dozens of their housemates.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Neville, who was conversing with a student in front of him and looked worried.

"Not really sure," Neville replied. "Everyone in front is passing it along the word that the portrait hole is closed…"

"Closed?" Hermione repeated. "But the Fat Lady wouldn't just leave when dinner was about to end, would she?"

"Excuse me!" a voice called, and Harry recognized Percy Weasley making his way through the crowd. "Why aren't any of you going in? Let me through please, I'm a prefect…" Percy stopped talking abruptly when he reached the front.

"Somebody get Professor Dumbledore!" he snapped.

Word traveled quickly, and the headmaster soon arrived on the scene. The Gryffindors parted to either side to let him through, and Harry gasped as he finally caught sight of the problem. The Fat Lady's canvas was in ruins, great slashes running through her painting and a few chunks missing entirely. The Fat Lady herself was nowhere to be seen, and Harry desperately hoped she didn't look as awful as her backdrop – she could be nosy at times, but overall she was rather sweet, and the Gryffindors all thought fondly of their common room's guardian.

"Does anyone know what happened?" Dumbledore asked, his voice carrying so those at the back could hear. Everyone shook their heads worriedly.

"Ooooooh, I know!" someone cackled.

"Peeves," Harry muttered. Who else would be cackling at a time like this?

"You know what has become of the Fat Lady?" Dumbledore inquired as Peeves shimmered into view above their heads.

"Oh yes, sir," Peeves replied. In spite of his atrocious manners, he couldn't find it in himself to be rude to the headmaster. "She's a wreck, she is, crying her eyes out as she ran through landscapes on the fifth floor, last I saw her." He couldn't suppress a little giggle, as if he found the whole situation amusing instead of horrifying.

"Did she say who attacked her, Peeves?" Dumbledore pressed. Peeves tapped his fingers to his chin.

"No, she didn't," he said, "but Peevsie was hiding and _saw_ what happened, your Professorship. My _goodness,_ did he get mad when she wouldn't let him in…nasty temper, nasty temper. It's always the little ones, the ones you don't suspect, isn't it?"

"Who was it, Peeves?" Dumbledore asked, a little more urgently.

"My apologies, Peevsie was rambling." The poltergeist tipped his hat in a mock salute. "Like Peevsie said, it's always the ones you don't suspect…but there you go. Peevsie never liked that Peter Pettigrew anyway."

* * *

**A/N: There you go - a much longer chapter to make up for the shortness of chapter 5. **

**And speaking of chapter 5 - WOW. I have never gotten so many reviews on one chapter before, or so many reviews so quickly - thank you so much! It made me so happy to see so much feedback - keep it up please? Thanks to my new followers/faves as well, of course!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	7. Rats and Rain

In less than twenty minutes, Dumbledore had secured the entire student population of Hogwarts in the Great Hall with explicit instructions that no one was to leave until he gave the all clear. He left the Head Boy and Girl in charge, provided everyone with plush sleeping bags, and swept from the hall without another word.

"He's probably briefing the rest of the staff in preparation for searching the castle," Hermione commented, glancing back towards the Great Hall's massive entrance doors as she and Harry dragged two sleeping bags towards the corner where most of their housemates had already set up camp. As they claimed their spots, Harry caught a glimpse of Draco on the other side of the hall, where he was deep in conversation with Blaise and Tracey. The trio, as did many of the other students around them, looked extremely confused, and Harry realized that until word spread, three-quarters of the school would have no idea what had just happened.

"I'd love to know how he got in," Harry muttered as he settled in beside Hermione. "This place is overrun with protective charms – you can't just waltz in whenever you feel like it."

"Be that as it may, remember that he was one of the Marauders," Hermione reminded him. "You think he doesn't know how to get into Hogwarts undetected? How he got onto the _grounds_ is a bit of a mystery, but Padfoot's told us enough stories that I'm pretty confident saying that those four knew their way around the castle better than almost anyone."

"I'd love to meet him…meet him, and then rip him to pieces."

_"Harry!"_

"Hermione, he wouldn't hesitate to do the same to me," Harry snapped. "The traitor handed Voldemort my parents on a silver platter without a second thought, and from what I know of him, I've no doubt he'd jump at the chance to finish what he started twelve years ago if he could. My mum and I were lucky to escape with our lives, and Sirius had to hide away with us as well – not that he minds, but he hasn't been able to live a normal life because too many people think _he_ was the one who betrayed my parents. Too few people know about the Secret Keeper switch."

"But surely you couldn't…you wouldn't…" Hermione hesitated, seemingly unable to voice her concern, but Harry got what she meant after only a moment's reflection.

"No, I couldn't," he reassured her. "I won't become a cold-hearted murderer for the likes of him – and besides, death would be too easy of a punishment. If – _when_ I catch him, he's going straight to Azkaban, where as far as I'm concerned, he can spend the rest of his life reflecting on what he's done to land himself there. Hanging out with dementors seems far more fitting."

"Just…be careful, Harry. Please." Hermione glanced over at him, her eyes wide and a little fearful. "I don't like how easily you're talking like that – bottling up hate will only hurt you in the end." Harry's expression softened at her worried tone, and he reached over to squeeze her hand.

"You're right, as usual," he said. "I promise I won't let it get to me – he's not worth it, is he?" Hermione shook her head in agreement.

"No, he's not. What he did was terrible, and we can make sure he pays for his crimes once he's caught, but if we stoop to his level to do so, he's already won."

"Sometimes I wonder why you're not in Ravenclaw, Maya," Harry said softly, giving her an incredulous little smile.

"Ah, but where would you be without your voice of reason?" Hermione countered, chuckling quietly. "And this voice of reason says it's time for bed, no matter how many students Fred and George are trying to convince to stay up all night." Harry nearly laughed out loud at that.

"Again, well played," he said, burrowing further into his sleeping bag and making himself comfortable. "Night, Maya."

"Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

The next morning brought no news regarding Pettigrew. From what they understood, nobody had seen hide or hair of him since Peeves had witnessed him ripping the Fat Lady's painting to shreds, even though the castle had been thoroughly searched from top to bottom. Even looking for a rat wouldn't have done them much good, as Hogwarts, the dungeons especially, was home to all sorts of creatures, rats included. As far as Harry knew, there wasn't anything especially distinguishing about Pettigrew's Animagus form, so finding him in such a manner was next to impossible. The only thing the staff _could_ do was tighten security – harsh punishments were given to those who broke curfew, common room passwords changed much more frequently, and any secret passages the staff knew about were immediately boarded up or otherwise rendered inaccessible.

The weather took a noticeable turn for the worse as October became November, much to Harry's chagrin. The first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, was rapidly approaching, and as Quidditch was almost never cancelled, the day promised to provide everyone with a good soaking whether they wanted it or not. Rain slashed at the windows and pounded the tower roofs, lightning got brighter and thunder got louder – by the time game day rolled around, Hogwarts was ensconced in its own personal hurricane, the howling of the wind clearly audible above even the boisterous students in the Great Hall.

"This is _not_ going to be fun," Harry muttered as he prepared half a dozen pieces of toast. He gestured towards the ceiling, the steel gray color rippling with the blinding white of lightning, and the windows, where a steady stream of rain coursed down the thick panes like a never-ending waterfall.

"We might just be getting wet today, Harry my lad," Fred Weasley quipped as he reached across the table for the orange juice.

"Not that we haven't been wet since Halloween, mind you," George interjected, stealing the pitcher from Fred and pointedly ignoring his twin's indignant yelp. "I'm pretty sure Wood's been secretly scheming to drown the lot of us, but it's hard to tell."

"I thought you all knew what you signed up for when you joined the team," Ginny joked, having arrived just in time to catch the start of the conversation. "Neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor hail…"

"That sounds like the Muggle post office's mantra," Hermione said with a laugh. Ginny shrugged.

"Same idea, I guess – Quidditch doesn't get cancelled for anything."

"Except petrifications," Harry reminded her, the day of Hermione's attack coming to mind.

"Except petrifications," the redhead agreed.

Though they put off departure until the last minute, the time came when the friends couldn't delay any longer, and they fastened their rain gear securely before taking a deep breath and venturing outdoors. Raincoats and umbrellas did very little, however, as the torrential rain soaked through everything in seconds, and the high winds ripped even the heaviest umbrellas from people's grips as if they were pieces of parchment. Just before they parted ways at the stands, Hermione took Harry's glasses and tapped them with her wand, strengthening them with a spell to repel water. Harry thanked her gratefully before jogging towards the changing rooms – he'd still be soaked, but at least he'd be able to see.

"Reckon we'll be able to see anything in this mess?" Blaise asked as he, Draco, and Tracey caught up to Hermione and Ginny in the stands. Ginny snorted.

"Not likely," she replied, "but we still weren't going to skip out on the match. What're you doing over here, anyway?"

"Gin, do you really think just three students will be missed when nobody can see more than a few feet in front of them?" Blaise remarked. "We'd much rather sit with you guys than Nott any day of the week – and there's no way in hell any self-respecting Slytherin would ever get caught supporting Hufflepuff."

"I thought there was no way in hell any self-respecting Slytherin would ever get caught supporting Gryffindor, either," Ginny replied, raising her eyebrows and smirking.

"Don't let anyone else hear this, but we'll take you lions over Hufflepuff any day," Blaise said. "Now shut up and sit down, the match is about to start!"

Blaise must've had a watch, Hermione mused, because there was no other way he could've known the match was starting soon. She could barely hear Lee Jordan's voice, magically magnified though it was, over the sounds of the storm, and when the players did emerge from the locker rooms, she had to squint to see the scarlet-clad Gryffindors through the downpour. Madam Hooch's whistle somehow cut through all the extraneous noise and the game began.

Within minutes, participants and spectators alike could tell that it would be an interesting match. The players were so wet that they could hardly tell friend from foe, and as such, there were a number of questionable Quaffle passes, and the Bludgers became even more dangerous as they swiftly appeared from nowhere. Harry kept to his favorite tactic of circling high above the rest of the action, but the strong winds soon forced him to drop lower than he would've liked for fear of being blown away completely. Even with the Impervious Charm in place, it would be extremely difficult to find the tiny Snitch.

The game dragged on for over an hour before Oliver Wood called a time-out, during which the players tried in vain to wring some of the excess water from their clothes and hair.

"Harry, just…get the Snitch soon, would you?" Wood implored him. "If we have to stay out here much longer, we'll be playing in the dark, and this storm's only gonna get worse."

"I'll try," Harry promised, wrenching his foot from the mud with a squelch in order to remount his broom. He and the other Gryffindors took to the sky, and Madam Hooch's whistle put the Quaffle in play once more.

"This is really bad, isn't it?" Hermione said to Draco. The two teenagers had put aside their awkward situation for the sake of enjoying the match with their friends – so far, the game had actually succeeded in distracting them from their thoughts.

"No kidding," Draco replied, attempting to brush some of the hair plastered to his face away from his eyes. "Any time the Snitch wants to show up would be good…"

Meanwhile, Harry had resumed his lazy circling of the pitch, still lower than usual due to the storm. He'd had two false alarms already when lightning reflected off people's watches and was sincerely hoping the third time would be the real deal.

"Some of Dobby's hot cocoa sounds like a marvelous idea right about now," he said to himself as he flew, eyes still scanning the pitch. It wasn't until his third consecutive lap, though, that he heard it – or rather, didn't. The stands had fallen silent despite the presence of almost the entire school, thunder was still shaking the very foundations of the pitch but not making a sound, raindrops noiselessly impacted the surrounding landscape…it was eerily disconcerting.

Then Harry made the mistake of looking down.

Dementors, dozens of them, had taken up a position on the grass of the Quidditch pitch, their hoods directed upwards toward the players. Harry immediately noticed that while the temperature had been cold before, it was now positively frigid, and a new sound, that of splintering wood and frantic cries, was steadily growing louder.

"No," he muttered, "I can't do this, _not_ now!" Try as he might, however, he couldn't fight the sounds of James Potter's death, which were now on repeat like some perverse broken record. Harry gasped as his vision momentarily blanked and his broom dropped several feet. If he didn't get back to the ground quickly, he was going to fall.

He was a mere fifteen feet above the ground when he couldn't take it anymore. The invading sounds took over, and Harry pitched forward off his broomstick, the grass rapidly rushing up to meet him. He hit the ground with a sickening _thud_ and had just enough time to register pain before he blacked out completely.

* * *

**A/N: Been awhile since we've seen Quidditch, hasn't it? & you'll definitely be seeing a lot more of the Pettigrew situation, don't worry (keep in mind he's not the same person he is in canon...)**

**Thanks for the follows/faves/reviews! Leave me a review for this chapter, s'il vous plaît? I do like hearing what you think - questions, comments, concerns, predictions, suggestions...bring 'em on.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Hope you enjoy! :)**


	8. Bedside Chats

"If he doesn't wake up soon, I'm going to hex him awake!"

"I think that sort of defeats the purpose, Hermione…"

"I'm worried and irritated, alright? If those stupid dementors hadn't shown up, we might be enjoying the rest of our Saturday instead of camping out in here…"

"I get it, I get it!"

"Do you really? I'd love a few minutes for a hot shower and a chance to relax before I have to dive into my homework, but now it's not gonna happen…"

"Will you two quit it?" Harry mumbled, finally deciding that he could withhold his consciousness no longer. He'd been listening to Hermione and Draco bicker for the last five minutes, and while he was grateful they were there, the sniping was getting old fast.

"Harry!" Hermione nearly shrieked, practically toppling her chair over in her haste to give him her attention. "Merlin, it's been ages…"

"I gathered that from what I just heard," Harry replied drily. His friends had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Sorry about that," Draco muttered. "Probably not what you wanted to hear when you'd just woken up, huh?"

"Never mind that," Hermione said hurriedly, still looking apprehensive. "Harry, are you alright? That was a really nasty fall…"

"I hate to break it to you, Maya, but I actually don't know what happened," Harry replied. "I was hoping one of you could tell me." Hermione and Draco glanced at each other. They seemed to be having an argument with their eyes, and after a few moments, it appeared that Hermione lost, since she reluctantly continued to speak.

"Well…you didn't fall as far as you could've – maybe fifteen feet or so?" she guessed. "Still, we all heard you hit the ground, and you could've heard a pin drop in that stadium, it was so quiet. You weren't moving, and your leg was stuck out at such an odd angle…"

"So that's why it feels weird," Harry mused, having noticed a slight tingling sensation in his left leg.

"Yeah, you definitely broke it when you fell," Draco concurred. "It was…really gross looking, to be honest." Harry reached over and smacked his brother's arm, sticking his tongue out as he did so. "Well, it was! Pomfrey's got you on about six different potions, most of which are painkillers, which is why I suspect you don't feel much right now even though your leg's still healing."

"It was the dementors, wasn't it?" Hermione asked. She had a determined look on her face, as if she already suspected the answer but needed confirmation.

"Yeah," Harry replied, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. He was sure it was sticking up even more than usual, now that he'd been apparently sleeping for…

"Huh," he said suddenly. "How long _have_ I been out, anyway?"

"A few hours," Draco said. "McGonagall brought you up here while Dumbledore went to deal with the dementors – he was _livid,_ by the way – and we've been here since. The rest of the Gryffindor squad stopped in a while ago, but since you were still asleep, they said they'd come back later."

"Well, Wood wasn't with them," Hermione reminded him. "Fred said he might be alright to come with them later, but he wasn't sure – he doesn't blame you though, Harry."

"Oh, crap," Harry muttered, a sinking feeling increasing in his gut at Hermione's words. "We…the match is…officially over, isn't it?" He couldn't find it in himself to voice it more bluntly, but the implications were loud and clear.

"Yeah, it is," Draco confirmed. "Diggory caught the Snitch before he'd realized what had happened – since the dementors affect the two of us worse than most, I suspect you were already halfway off your broom before anybody else realized anything was wrong. Once he saw you on the ground, he immediately insisted on a rematch, but rules are rules – they won, fair and square. Even Wood told him his protesting was pointless."

"And we all know how much Wood hates to lose," Harry said almost needlessly. The Gryffindor captain possessed a fiery passion for Quidditch unrivaled by most of his peers and poured his very heart and soul into every game he played. The only other match they'd lost with Harry on the team had been two years ago when an unfortunate Bludger to the head had knocked Wood out of the match – as they hadn't had a backup Keeper, the rest of the game had been brutal…but even then, Harry had caught the Snitch.

"It doesn't matter right now," Hermione said quickly. "We all know today's win was a lucky one for Hufflepuff – they're not nearly that good on their own. Ravenclaw's still way too good for Hufflepuff to stand any chance when they play each other next month, and unless Slytherin's suddenly fallen apart, their chances there aren't much better, which means Gryffindor's still in the running for the Cup."

"Ugh, too many statistics," Draco muttered, "but we get the point. Hufflepuff would need a _ton_ of luck on their side to hope of advancing much further, and as much as I hate to admit it, Gryffindor's a damn good team."

"Ah, now you're talking!" Harry said with a cheeky grin, causing his brother to whack at him in retaliation. He sobered quickly as his thoughts returned to the dementors. "Did the dementors get to you too, then?" he asked Draco. Draco nodded.

"Yeah, they did," he said quietly. "It was just as bad as the first time, maybe worse – maybe we need to ask Moony if he'll teach us the Patronus Charm, even if it is really hard. I don't know if I could handle hearing that every time one of those blasted things gets too close, especially knowing there was something I could do to stop it. It wasn't nearly as bad as your situation, though, considering I was in the stands and could just sit down, while you were on your broom with nowhere to go." His last statement directed Harry's thoughts elsewhere yet again.

"Speaking of my broom, where is it?" he asked.

"Honestly, Harry – you've been lying unconscious in the hospital wing for the last three hours, and you're worried about your _broom?"_ Hermione admonished. Harry chuckled a bit as she rolled her eyes.

"I mean, it is kind of important, you know," he pointed out. She sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling all the same.

"It's up in your room – Ginny grabbed it for you. It just kinda floated aimlessly around after you fell, and we were afraid it would blow away in the storm, so she went straight to the teachers – I don't really know who she found first, to be honest, but a quick Summoning Charm later, and it was in her possession."

Just then, the door to the hospital wing opened, revealing the subject of their discussion, who was followed closely by most of Harry's teammates.

"Hiya, Harry," Fred Weasley greeted him as he and George pulled up chairs for themselves and their Chasers, Ginny having already perched herself beside Draco on the foot of Harry's bed. The newcomers looked exhausted but refreshed, and Harry took a moment to really take a good look at Draco and Hermione. While his teammates and Ginny were wet, it was the satisfying, I-just-had-a-hot-bath kind of wet. Draco and Hermione were just…_wet._ They'd obviously dried somewhat, if they were to be believed that the match had ended hours ago, but Hermione's hair was a mile wide, and Draco's was all mussed up as well. They both had mud splattered on their clothes, and they looked cold and exhausted.

"Did you two not even go change before you came here?" Harry asked them incredulously, Hermione's earlier comment about wanting a hot shower coming to mind.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione scoffed, even as she ran her fingers through her extra-unruly curls. "Making sure you were alright was much more important."

"You both knew I was fine ages ago – go clean yourselves up, I'd rather not be the reason either of you comes down with pneumonia," Harry said sternly. When Hermione made to protest, he snapped, "Maya, there's no use fighting me on this – I'm not going anywhere, I don't want either of you to get sick, so go!" Finally, Hermione backed down, and she and Draco left the hospital wing, both of them sending Harry one last meaningful look before Draco shut the door.

"Bloody hell, she's stubborn sometimes," Harry muttered as Ginny took Hermione's empty chair. "I love her to death, but Merlin…" Ginny chuckled.

"She just cares about you, that's all," she said, shoving his shoulder playfully. "But you were right to kick them out – they absolutely refused to go anywhere but straight here, and they really do need to warm up – that rain was freezing."

"Maybe they can quit griping at each other while they're at it," Harry grumbled. "All this tiptoeing around is getting ridiculous." Ginny only smiled and shook her head, as if she knew something Harry didn't.

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" she suggested. Harry readily agreed and began chatting with Alicia and Katie. Ginny sighed softly – Harry was right that the situation with Draco and Hermione was getting out of hand, but saying something to either of them was just bound to make things worse. She could only hope that they would reconcile before either of them exploded.

* * *

**A/N: School's back in session as of today, which means I'm back to having Wednesdays off again - perfect time for me to write! & I got rather carried away with this chapter - it ended up being almost twice as long as all the previous ones, and since the second half really didn't have anything to do with the first, I'm splitting it into 2 chapters. As a result, this one's actually a little shorter than normal, but chapter 9 will go up as soon as I finish reading it over. Let me know what you think of both?**

**JKR owns all things Potter - as always, thanks for reading, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	9. The Legend of the Founders' Rings

At dinner that evening, Harry and Hermione received identical scrolls of parchment sealed with purple wax. Upon opening them, they found a short note in narrow, loopy handwriting they both recognized:

_Please come to my office at eight this evening. I enjoy chocolate frogs._

_Yours very sincerely,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

Needless to say, the note was extremely vague, and their interest was more than piqued. As Harry looked up from the parchment, he caught sight of Draco across the hall and noticed that his brother had a letter as well. Draco met his eyes and shrugged.

"So it's something he wants all three of us to know," he said quietly.

"Hmm?" Hermione was busy buttering her potatoes and had subsequently missed the cross-table exchange.

"All three of us – you, me, and Draco – have these notes, so whatever Dumbledore wants to talk to us about, it's something we all need to know. I wonder what it is – and what's up with the chocolate frogs bit?"

"Maybe it's a password," Hermione suggested. "We should definitely go, though – it might be important."

The friends managed to whittle away the time between the end of dinner and their meeting by finishing their Charms homework, and just before eight, they left the Room of Requirement to make their way to the headmaster's office. When they reached the gargoyle, Harry took Hermione's suggestion and said, "Chocolate frogs." The gargoyle leapt aside, and they found themselves on the moving staircase. Harry, who was closest to the door when they reached the top, grabbed the knocker.

"Come in!" a voice called. The trio obliged, and Hermione gasped. Harry laughed in spite of himself. Of course – Hermione had never been in here before. She'd probably been momentarily stunned by the sheer number of books in the room, as he was almost positive Dumbledore's collection was second only to the massive main library itself.

"Good evening," Dumbledore said cordially. "Please, do have a seat." He indicated three squashy-looking armchairs in front of his desk, and when the teenagers complied, they found them to be extremely comfortable and sank back almost immediately.

"Now, I suppose you're wondering why I pulled you away from your ever-important schoolwork this evening," Dumbledore began.

"We _were_ doing work, Professor, I promise," Harry said, not sure why he felt the sudden need to defend himself.

"I don't doubt you, my boy," Dumbledore replied with a chuckle. "I just had some news I thought you might find interesting. Do you recall the mention of a legend?" The three stared blankly at him for several seconds, then Hermione's eyes widened in recognition.

"You mean the legend from the prophecy?" she asked. Draco and Harry perked up instantly at her question. _Merlin,_ Harry thought. _We've been so wrapped up in classes and Quidditch and Wormtail that we completely forgot about the prophecy!_

"The very same," Dumbledore replied. "I thought it might end up being a rather lengthy search – we did have no idea where to start, after all – but the answer, I think, has been here all the time."

_"Here?"_ Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, here," Dumbledore repeated, unable to stop himself from chuckling once more. "For you see, we failed to recall the entire line of the prophecy, which refers to _'the legend in her sacred vault' _– how silly of me to forget that Hogwarts does indeed have a 'sacred vault' of sorts."

"Sir?" Draco questioned, still not getting where the headmaster was going with this. Judging by their eager and slightly confused looks, neither did Harry or Hermione.

"Hogwarts has archives," Dumbledore told them, "archives that only the current head of the school – or deputy head, in times of emergency – can access. These archives house records of all sorts that date back to the very founding of the school, and even before then, if you count the blueprints and many scrolls detailing the planning, the hopes and dreams the founders poured into these very walls." Dumbledore paused and gestured around the room as if to emphasize his point. "There are even some records about the founders themselves, although those aren't nearly as numerous as those directly related to the school."

"Wow," Hermione breathed. "That's…"

"A treasure trove," Draco finished, looking equally as awed.

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore agreed. "The sheer quantity of knowledge in that room is astounding – I don't pretend to have discovered all its secrets, and I suspect I never will. The fact that I even have access to such a room is humbling. But I digress. I was searching the archives for something else entirely when I came across a letter I think you might like to read." He shuffled around behind his desk – it sounded like he was opening a drawer – and straightened up a moment later, holding a very ornate and rather rusty key.

"While I cannot take you into the archives themselves, as numerous enchantments prevent anyone but Professor McGonagall or I from entering, I _can_ take you into the viewing room," he said, pushing aside a tapestry behind his desk to reveal a plain wooden door.

"What's the viewing room, sir?" Harry asked. Dumbledore fumbled with the key for a moment before managing to insert it into the lock, which was large and looked just as old as the key.

"I'm sure you're all familiar with the idea of preserving documents, no?" he asked. When the three students gave him half-hearted shrugs, he continued, "The older an artifact gets, the more fragile it becomes – artwork starts to fade or crack, buildings begin to crumble. In the case of written documents, mishandling them can lead to devastating consequences – even the wrong air quality or too harsh lighting can irreparably damage ancient scrolls. The archives have a viewing room that is strictly controlled to account for such variables, which allows for further examination of records without having to remain in the archives themselves – in situations like these, where others besides those with access to the archives need to know, it's quite convenient."

"Couldn't you just copy the original, instead of risking damage by moving it in here?" Hermione wondered.

"I could, but there's no way of knowing how many times an object has been duplicated, and overdoing it can damage the original just as much as moving it," Dumbledore replied. "Besides, I thought you three might like to see the original – it's highly fascinating." He opened the door and ushered them into a room roughly the size of most of Hogwarts' classrooms – not too big, but not too small. The room was bathed in a soft reddish light not unlike a photography darkroom, and a simple table and chairs were the only furnishings in the otherwise bare space.

"Where's the entrance to the archives, Professor?" Hermione asked, looking confused at the lack of another door.

"Oh, it's certainly not in here," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily even in the dim light. "Another one of the founders' brilliant moves, if I do say so – after all, how secure would the archives be if just anyone could break in provided they found the door? No, the entrance to the archives is somewhere else entirely, and a special transportation spell allows objects to be moved here."

"The philosopher's stone!" Draco said suddenly, having recalled something Dumbledore said after their trip down the trapdoor. "The stone was in the archives, wasn't it?"

"Very good, Mr. Black, very good indeed!" Dumbledore replied, sounding rather pleased. "I always love it when my students are so astute – the stone was indeed housed in the archives that year. As such, it is not a part of Hogwarts' history and couldn't remain any longer than that, but it gave dear Nicolas and I time to find a better safekeeping spot for it. Now, to the matter at hand, shall we?" He gestured towards the table, where several pairs of gloves and thin tweezers sat waiting.

"Gloves on, please," he said. "The oils in your hands can damage old parchment alarmingly quickly. If you must move it, use the tools." The trio did as requested and finally approached the center of the table, where a single sheet of parchment sat waiting for them on a tray. It was faded around the edges and looked extremely old, and the writing upon it was in a thick, curly script.

"Go ahead," Dumbledore encouraged. They stepped forward to take a closer look, and Hermione almost immediately let out a yelp, her eyes having instinctively dropped to the signature first.

"Is that…is that really a letter written by _Helga Hufflepuff?"_ she managed to stammer. Harry and Draco followed her gaze, where they indeed found the famous witch's large, flowery signature staring at them.

"The very same," Dumbledore assured them. "But I'm sure you might find the contents even more interesting than the signature, so read on." The trio quickly decided it was best if Hermione just read the letter aloud – it was too hard for all three of them to make everything out in the dark room – and so she began:

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_And so it is done – Rowena has finished the charms on her ring today, thereby completing the set. The four together are probably among the most powerful magical objects in the world, if used properly – but then, the circumstances surrounding their use are so specific that we needn't despair should one fall into the wrong hands._

_The rings, of course, allow the wearers to tap into the magic of Hogwarts itself – a protection plan, if you will, should the school find itself in excessive danger. Of course, we hope with everything we are that this may never be the case, but one can never be too prepared. Those worthy of wearing the rings will personify the qualities of each respective house, though it is not necessary to have a member of each house amongst their ranks – uniting the character traits that distinguish us is far more important than to which banner each wearer is pledged at such a tender age as eleven. I shan't explain how you will know if a particular individual is the right candidate – if the time comes when they're needed, the rings will speak for themselves._

_May Hogwarts ever stand strong._

_Kindest regards,_

_Helga Hufflepuff_

The three friends stared silently at the letter for several long moments after Hermione finished reading.

"It's called the Legend of the Founders' Rings," Dumbledore said once he'd realized they didn't quite know what to say. "I found references to it in other journals as well, some of them written as many as three or four hundred years after this letter."

"As interesting as it is – and it really is – the letter doesn't really help us all that much, does it?" Hermione said.

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore replied.

"Well…I suppose it tells us how to determine who wears the rings…but that doesn't help much if we don't _have_ the rings, does it?"

"And that, my dear, is where you are wrong."

"You mean…you have the rings?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

"Well…no, not exactly. But we do have one of them." Dumbledore waved his hand and murmured something they couldn't hear, and a second tray appeared to the left of the first.

"Hufflepuff's ring," he proclaimed. "That, you may touch – objects containing that much magic easily withstand the test of time."

"Is that why Ginny didn't have any issues with Gryffindor's sword?" Harry asked.

"Precisely. Now, go ahead and take a look at that ring. In fact, why don't we bring it back into my office so you can see it better?" The trio complied and were soon seated back in the squashy armchairs in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"But…there must be some mistake," Draco said, frowning once he'd gotten a good look at the ring. "No offense, Professor, but this looks like…well, it looks like it's made of…"

"Plastic?" Dumbledore suggested with a smile.

"Well…yes."

And indeed, Draco was right. The object before them was indeed a ring, two stripes of black surrounding a single stripe of yellow down the middle, but it looked – and felt – like plastic. It resembled a child's toy far more than a powerful magical artifact.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, "but we've forgotten the protection plan, have we not?"

"The protection plan has a protection plan?" Harry muttered, remembering the phrase Hufflepuff had used to refer to the rings.

"Yes, it does, and the founders did right to put it in place," Dumbledore said. "If you'll recall, I said I'd found journal entries that mentioned the rings – as far as I can tell, no one has ever used them, as they've never been able to find a complete set of people who fit the requirements for wearing them, but there have been times when as many as three rings have been matched to wearers, and the journals describe a noticeable change in the rings when such a thing happens. From what I can tell, the 'plastic' look is a special sort of Glamour Charm, one that will only remove itself when one who is worthy of that particular ring puts it on."

"So we have to track down the rest of the rings, which could get interesting, but once we have them, it can't be _too_ hard to find a quartet worthy of wearing them, could it?" Harry asked.

"Ah, but the prophecy has further requirements for those who wear the rings," Dumbledore corrected him. "'_Bronze and black together in friendship, silver and gold given freely in the name of the enemy's ignorance.'_ I had my suspicions, of course, that these lines had something to do with the houses, given that they mention each house's secondary color, and now that we've seen what one of the rings looks like, I'm sure of it."

"But what do those lines mean?" Draco pressed. "It's best if we start looking for these people now – who knows how long it'll take us to find the rings, and chances are we'll need them at some point."

"Unfortunately, I don't doubt that," Dumbledore said gravely. "As for the meaning behind the lines…I have ideas, of course, but it's always best to have help when consulting prophecies, and you three are highly intelligent – let's see if you can come up with that answer. Now, I think I've given you more than enough to think about for one evening, don't you? Off to bed, then!"

The three friends left Dumbledore's office without another word. One thing was for sure – he certainly had given them a lot to think about.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty, this chapter, I _really_ want to know what you think - the legend is entirely my own creation & will play a large part in the story to come, & I want to hear your thoughts! Where will they find the 3 remaining rings, & more importantly, who will wear each one, & why? (I'd be willing to bet you can't guess that last part...) My sister thought it was a really cool idea, but I'd love to hear your thoughts as well, regardless of whether you agree with her! In case you need a refresher, bronze = Ravenclaw, black = Hufflepuff, silver = Slytherin, & gold = Gryffindor.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Thanks so much for reading/following/favoriting/reviewing, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	10. Puzzles, Presents, and Predicaments

The next few weeks were very busy for the trio – in addition to contemplating their new knowledge regarding the prophecy, they had plenty of end-of-term work to keep them occupied until the holidays. As Harry feared might happen, Hermione came down with a horrendous cold shortly after the ill-fated Quidditch match. While a few strategic doses of Pepper-Up Potion from Madam Pomfrey kept the fever away, the matron made it quite clear to the students of Hogwarts that even wizards didn't have a cure for the common cold, and as such, Hermione rarely went anywhere without a large supply of tissues while she waited for her sniffles to run their course.

"She works too hard," Draco said to Harry one night as they contemplated an essay on Kappas for Lupin. "She's going to run herself into the ground if she's not careful."

"I heard that," Hermione muttered, though she didn't once look up from the enormous book she was reading.

"Hush, Maya," Harry said quickly, trying to reassure her, "we're just worried about you, that's all."

"That's very sweet of you, but you don't have to," Hermione sniffed – quite literally, as she was still rather congested. "Your own schedules are full enough – I'll be fine."

But the boys didn't quite believe her. Hermione was always the first one to their chosen workspace – be it the library, the Room of Requirement, or the Gryffindor common room – and the last to leave. She hurried through meals, eating just enough so she wouldn't be hungry before taking off at top speed, her bag was full to bursting with massive tomes that they weren't entirely sure were all for class alone, and her fingertips seemed permanently stained with ink. What really stumped her friends, however, was her schedule – neither Harry nor Draco could even begin to fathom how she was taking more classes than the day could hold, and some of Hermione's other classmates had noticed as well. Once, Harry had sworn that Hermione had been right behind him and Draco on their way to the Great Hall, only to turn around and find her some twenty feet behind them, hastening to catch up as she hurriedly tucked what looked like a chain down inside her shirt collar.

"Did you find something to put on your necklace, Maya?" Harry had asked her, referring to the magical jewelry Sirius had given the three friends for Christmas two years earlier.

"What? Oh, no, I haven't," Hermione had replied. "It just came un-tucked, that's all." She'd seemed distracted, and Harry had known her excuse was a feeble one, but he hadn't pushed her – there was no point. Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to dwell on it either, as homework and Quidditch required too much of his attention.

"I need a break from this," Harry decided, pushing his essay away to separate himself clearly from his work. "My map of Asia is a mess, and you know I'm not thinking straight when I start confusing Mongolia and Malawi."

"Malawi's not even in Asia, Harry," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows and smiling slightly.

"My point exactly. I'm brain-fried."

"What do you suggest we do instead?" Draco asked as he set his quill aside, more than happy to take a break from his own essay.

"We need to figure out this whole prophecy thing," Harry stated firmly. "We haven't got much to go on, but it's more than we had before, and I'm certain it's a vital clue."

"You mean the line about the colors?" Hermione confirmed, shuffling through a large stack of parchment until she found one inscribed with the prophecy. She set a second sheet, this one bearing everything they knew about the Legend of the Founders' Rings, next to it and prepared a third for note taking.

"Yeah. I'll bet you anything the key to who wears the rings is in that line," Harry said, tossing his hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head. "I just wish that particular line wasn't so cryptic." Hermione nodded her agreement as she scribbled the line in question onto yet another scrap of parchment before angling it so that they could all read it clearly:

_'Bronze and black together in friendship, silver and gold given freely in the name of the enemy's ignorance.'_

"Well…let's start with the easy part," Hermione suggested. "I think it's safe to say that the colors correspond to the houses, just like Dumbledore said – bronze is Ravenclaw, black is Hufflepuff, silver is Slytherin, and gold is Gryffindor." She wrote these connections out as she spoke them, and soon they had a little chart to go with the rest of their notes.

"And based on what we saw of Hufflepuff's ring, I think we have a pretty good idea of what the other three look like," Draco added. "Hufflepuff's is black and yellow, which stands to reason that the others are blue and bronze, green and silver, and red and gold."

"And disguised to look like plastic," Harry added with a slight chuckle. Hermione's quill flew across the page as she added these details below their new chart.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Draco said. "The whole 'bronze and black together in friendship' part, I mean – Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were good friends, weren't they?"

"They were…but I'm not entirely sure that's what it means," Hermione said with a frown. "Gryffindor and Slytherin were just as close, before the whole feud that led to Slytherin leaving, obviously, but the phrase about those two rings is very different."

"'Silver and gold given freely in the name of the enemy's ignorance'," Harry repeated for what felt like the hundredth time already. "That part is as confusing as the first part is straightforward, maybe even more so. 'In the name of the enemy's ignorance' – what the hell does that even mean?"

"And that's where I think we're stuck," Hermione said. "The whole 'enemy's ignorance' thing implies that there's an enemy to begin with, yet the founders created these rings as a 'just in case' sort of thing, not to deal with a current threat. Besides, as far as we know, this prophecy refers to the here and now – I asked Dumbledore about it the other day, and he said he'd checked. Even though the Sorting Hat is as old as the founders themselves, it's never given a prophecy before, and every time it's been recorded to have given advice, that advice applied to the present time, so we think it's the same idea here. In that case, the 'enemy' is Voldemort, and the line about the colors refers not to the founders, but to the people wearing the rings."

"So the people wearing Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's rings have to be friends?" Harry asked. "Well, that should be easy enough – those two houses have always gotten along."

"Remember though, the people wearing those rings aren't necessarily from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, they just exhibit all the prized characteristics of those houses," Draco reminded them. "The Ravenclaw ring could easily go to someone like Lotte, who's a Gryffindor but possesses Ravenclaw traits in spades."

"True…but at least we know what we're looking for in that regard," Harry replied. "The Gryffindor and Slytherin rings, however, are still a problem."

"Well, what's Voldemort ignorant of?" Hermione asked.

"All the basic principles of humanity?" Draco said with a snort. "You have to admit the list is pretty long."

"Yeah…ugh, why can't any of this ever make sense for once?" Harry groaned. It was Hermione's turn to snort.

"Honestly, Harry – prophecies have strong ties with Divination. Since when does anything associated with _Divination_ make sense?"

"Fair point, Maya," he said, both he and Draco unable to contain their laughter. "But I've got nothing else to add for now – guess it's back to the Kappas then."

* * *

It seemed to take an eternity, but the final day of term eventually arrived, and Harry, Draco, and Hermione soon found themselves aboard the Hogwarts Express once more.

"This had better be a normal train ride," Harry said darkly as he hoisted his trunk into the luggage rack.

"Agreed," Draco said, flopping down and sprawling across half a bench all by himself. "No more dementors, let's just go home."

"Oy, scoot over!" Ginny demanded as she and Neville joined the trio in their compartment. "Unless you're pretending to be the newest style of seat cushion, of course." She shot Draco a cheeky grin and quickly sat on his legs, and it took quite a bit of wriggling and protesting on his part to get her up again so that he could properly make room for his friends. Yet another opening of the compartment door revealed Tracey and Blaise, and the teenagers were soon fully immersed in a rousing game of Exploding Snap.

Around lunchtime, the compartment door slid open once more.

"Hey, Harry," Fred Weasley said. "You think George and I could talk to you, Hermione, and Draco for a sec?"

"Sure," Harry replied with a shrug. "We'll be right back, yeah?"

"Take your time, we're not going anywhere," Ginny reassured him. Next to her, Neville was concentrating hard on placing the next card in the tower he and Blaise were now constructing.

"Our compartment's just down here," Fred pointed, gesturing for them to follow. The aforementioned compartment was empty, and he explained that their friends had gone off to visit other classmates for a bit, leaving the twins alone.

"Which is perfect for this, coz I don't think a ton of people should know about it – unless you decide you want them to, that is," Fred added, motioning that they should take a seat.

"Know about what?" Harry asked, not a little hesitantly. The Weasley twins were fun, but they were notorious for their prankster tendencies, and Harry didn't fancy being on the receiving end of any of their jokes, especially not so close to the holidays.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about," George said with a chuckle, speaking for the first time. "We just wanted to…return something that belongs to you, I guess you could say."

"Something that belongs to me?" Harry repeated.

"Mhmm." George reached up into the luggage rack and rummaged through his bag, eventually climbing back down with an "Aha!" In his hand, he held a ragged-looking piece of parchment.

"What is that?" Draco asked.

"This," George replied, "is the secret to our success. Ever wonder how we know the school so well? This little baby taught us everything we know – we're loathe to part with it, obviously, but we've already memorized it, and we don't really need to know where everyone is, so…"

"You're not making any sense, Georgie," Fred said with a grin. "Let's just show them what we know, eh?" He took the old parchment from his twin, touched it with his wand, and said, _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." _Instantly, ink lines began to appear from the spot his wand had touched, twisting, turning, and intersecting their way across the parchment until they formed…

"A map," Hermione breathed, recognition evident in her eyes.

"What makes you say this is mine?" Harry wondered.

"Well, the title, really," George said, pointing at what they'd missed. Curly letters across the top of the parchment proudly proclaimed, _'Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present the Marauder's Map.'_

"Obviously, we met Sirius when he came to our house with you guys at Easter and Ginny's birthday, but we didn't really make the connection until we overheard you two" – he pointed to Harry and Hermione – "talking about 'Padfoot' one night in the common room."

"How'd you get this, anyway?" Draco asked, gazing intently at the parchment. "And…this might seem like a stupid question, but what's it a map _of?"_

"Why, Hogwarts, of course," George replied. He quickly pointed out several familiar locations on the map, as well as a number of secret passages they hadn't known existed. "It shows the location of everyone in the school in real time – it's a really brilliant piece of magic, to be honest." They looked closer and were astonished to see a tiny dot labeled _Argus Filch_ making its way down the fourth floor. _Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout,_ and _Severus Snape_ were all in the headmaster's office – it seemed that _Albus Dumbledore_ was having a meeting with his Heads of House. The handful of students who'd remained at school for the holidays could be found in their various common rooms and dormitories, and _Sybil Trelawney_ was pacing her North Tower room.

"This is incredible," Draco murmured, now watching _Mrs. Norris_ pause halfway down a corridor.

"Indeed it is," Fred agreed. "As for where we got it, we nicked it from Filch, of course – doubt he ever figured out how to work it, or even what it was. It's been great to have, obviously, but you guys have a much more direct connection to the Marauders – any chance you know any of the others besides Padfoot?"

Harry, Draco, and Hermione exchanged looks. A quick silent conversation confirmed that it wouldn't be a good idea to spill too much – Lupin was their professor, after all, and they doubted it'd be good to let on that they knew that Wormtail was mass murderer Peter Pettigrew – but it couldn't hurt to share the last bit.

"Yeah, we do," Harry said. "Well, not directly, but…Prongs was my dad." Fred and George's eyes widened, their identical shocked expressions almost comical.

"That settles it, then," Fred said. "This _definitely_ rightfully belongs to you." He made to hand the map to Harry, but George stopped him.

"Hang on," he said, reaching over his twin's shoulder and tapping his wand to the map once more. _"Mischief managed._ There – now it's back to looking like parchment." Fred handed the map to Harry for real this time, and Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Thanks, guys," he said, folding the map carefully before pocketing it. "I could see this coming in handy…"

The trio decided not to share the map with anyone else just yet and passed the rest of the journey in amiable conversation with their friends. They exchanged 'Happy Christmas's and 'see you later's on the platform before heading off to find their ride home – in this case, Lily, as it was the Grangers' turn to cook the 'welcome home' dinner and Sirius couldn't drive. She gave them each a warm hug, but her smile seemed forced as she led the way to the car.

"What's up, Mum?" Harry asked as he helped load the trunks into the car. Lily sighed.

"Well, I guess you'll know about it eventually, so I might as well tell you now," she said. "You know how we have to visit my sister every year, to keep up the blood protection charms?"

"Yeah…" Harry replied slowly, not sure that he wanted to know where this was going. "Don't tell me Dumbledore's decided we need to stay longer, I dunno if I could handle that…"

"No, no, we still only have to go for the day," Lily assured him. "But there's a slight change this year, one that could be…interesting."

"What's that?" Draco asked as he slid into the backseat after Hermione. Lily took a deep breath as if she really didn't like what she was going to say next.

"Marge is going to be there."

* * *

**A/N: Well, then. Quite a lot to think about with this chapter...still want to hear your guesses re: the rings (as well as your other thoughts, of course! Please do drop me a line...)**

**Thanks much to my new follows/faves/reviews...& thanks to those of you who aren't new for still reading!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	11. The Christmas Dinner Disaster

For a long while, Harry merely stared at his mum in silence as he slowly processed what she'd said.

"Marge…" he said thoughtfully. The name rang a bell but didn't sound exceptionally familiar.

"Dudley's aunt, on his father's side," Lily supplied helpfully.

"Oh…_oh."_

Lily merely nodded in agreement as she slid into the driver's seat and started the car. Marge was Vernon's sister and therefore no blood relation of theirs, and Lily couldn't recall having ever met the woman. Petunia had mentioned Marge's intention to visit in a short note Lily had received just a few days prior, and Lily had to confess that she was worried. They had to spend time at her sister's to keep the blood connection charms alive, but Vernon and Petunia at least knew that their guests were magical. Marge knew nothing of the sort, nor was she supposed to, and if she was anything like her brother…this visit had the potential to be the most challenging yet.

"Great," Harry muttered, staring out at the London traffic without even a hint of actual interest. "These visits already suck, and now we have to deal with two Vernons instead of one?"

"Harry," Lily chided. "It's only for an afternoon, and I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Yes, Mum."

"At least you know your aunt's a good cook," Hermione said in an effort to lighten the situation.

"Oh yeah, coz that's such a consolation," Draco drawled sarcastically, making no effort to hide his eye roll.

"I was just trying to be helpful!" Hermione's indignation and hurt were apparent.

"Well, you failed."

_"Enough,_ you three," Lily said sharply. "It's Christmas, and I won't stand for you bickering over something stupid from now until New Year's."

The rest of the car ride was extremely subdued – hardly anyone spoke at all. It was such an abrupt change from their awed examination of the Marauder's Map mere hours previous, and Sirius immediately commented on the children's sullen moods when they trooped into the Grangers' house.

"Come on now, it's Christmas," he said. "So you have to spend a few hours with Muggles, so what? Don't let one measly afternoon ruin your entire vacation. Now, what we've got here might not be a Hogwarts feast, but it still smells damn good, so get rid of those frowns and come eat." And with that, he quickly transformed into his Animagus form, slobbering all over the three of them and wagging his tail cheekily before retreating to the Grangers' dining room. His deliberate playfulness lightened the tension somewhat, and dinner passed in a far more relaxed manner than the car ride.

The children managed to comply with the adults' requests and set aside their squabbles for the sake of the holiday, and it was with genuine excitement that Harry and Draco appeared in the Grangers' living room on Christmas morning.

"Apparition is a beautiful thing," Lily said to no one in particular as she gestured towards herself, Sirius, and the boys, the latter of who were already hugging Hermione and wishing her a happy Christmas. In spite of the cold wind gnawing at the windows and the slight dusting of snow on the ground, the handy form of transport meant that they were able to bypass the elements and join their friends in their pajamas.

Hermione and Harry jointly won the unofficial 'best Christmas gift' award that year. Hermione's was a broom – until that point, she'd been riding on one of Sirius' old brooms, with extra emphasis on _old._ She hated her inability to join in properly when Sirius, Harry, and Draco played pick-up Quidditch, and the broom was even outdated when compared to the Weasley family's much more modest choices. After extensive research and a bit of saving – Hermione had insisted on contributing towards the cost of her new broom – she chose a model comparable to the Nimbus 2000s the boys rode, and when she opened the package, they couldn't help but admire it.

"A Thunderbolt XVI – good choice, Maya," Harry said approvingly as he examined the broom's handle, which was a dark and elegant reddish-brown color. He pronounced the Roman numerals as 'ex vee eye' – anyone who knew brooms knew that that was how it was _supposed_ to be pronounced. 'Thunderbolt Sixteen' just didn't sound as cool.

"I agree," Draco said. "This is a great broom."

"I think I know what we're doing at some point this holiday," Sirius said, his eyes sparkling merrily.

"Pick-up Quidditch in the snow? Hell yes!" was the consensus, and everyone laughed.

If Hermione's present had them exclaiming admiringly, Harry's shocked them into silence.

"What is that?" Hermione's father asked, just as Draco muttered, "Holy Merlin…"

"Put it on, Harry," Sirius encouraged, gesturing towards the length of silvery material Harry had just unwrapped. Harry obliged by wrapping the fabric around his shoulders. The Grangers gave twin gasps of shock, and Harry nearly fell over as he looked down and realized why: he was _invisible._

"W-what?" he stammered.

"Invisibility cloak," Sirius said proudly. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"But…but those are _so_ rare!" Hermione exclaimed. "Surely something like that costs far more than is practical…"

"Trust me, Hermione, that thing is priceless," Sirius said with a laugh. "But we didn't buy it – it's a Potter family heirloom. James had it with him at school. Dumbledore borrowed it for a bit at one point, but it's been sitting in the back of my closet ever since he returned it – I just kept forgetting to give it to you."

"I don't think that was really a loss, Sirius," Lily quipped. "They get up to enough trouble at Hogwarts already – can you imagine what they could do with that thing?"

"You mean we can all use it? And this was my dad's?" Harry asked in awe.

"Sure thing – and yes, it was your dad's. We Marauders used to do it all the time – might have to crouch a bit as you get older, since your feet'll start to stick out if you get too tall, but you get used to it. Go ahead, try it." Harry raised the cloak over his head and extended the edges like wings, gesturing for Draco and Hermione to join him as he did so. When they did, he carefully draped the cloak over all three of them.

"Worked like a charm," Sirius said, still sounding proud. He Conjured a large mirror and placed it in front of them, and though the adults couldn't see the children, they heard their audible gasps at the incontestable proof that they were well and truly invisible.

"This is so cool," Draco's voice came from nowhere. "Wish my family owned stuff like this."

"We _are_ your family, Drake," was Harry's cheeky reply.

"True – I meant my blood relatives, though. I know we have vaults' worth of magical objects, but I doubt any of them are half as interesting."

"You never know – crazy pureblood families have a way of accumulating stuff you wouldn't expect," Sirius said, chuckling again. "The Blacks certainly have their fair share of bizarre possessions. Now take off that cloak, would you? I'm used to it, and I _still_ think it's weird talking to someone you can't see."

The excitement of the morning soon gave way to trepidation as Lily, Sirius, and the boys dressed for dinner with the Dursleys. Lily fiddled with everyone's ties and fussed over suit jackets more than usual, and Harry tried extra hard to flatten his unruly hair, if only in an attempt to soothe his mother's frazzled state. The trip across town seemed to take even less time than they remembered, and the foursome soon found itself standing on the Dursleys' front stoop.

"Here goes nothing," Lily muttered as she reached out and rang the bell. "Remember – behave."

The boy who answered the door had grown so much in the last year that they almost didn't recognize him. Dudley Dursley hadn't gained much in the way of height, but he'd positively ballooned in terms of his sideways growth, and neither Harry nor Draco cared to guess how many chins he now possessed.

"Erm…Dudley!" Lily greeted her nephew just a touch too enthusiastically as she tried in vain to hide her shock at his appearance. "Happy Christmas, dear – how are you?"

"Fine," Dudley squeaked. Clearly, his terror at the thought of being in their presence hadn't changed. He pulled himself together long enough to invite them in, take their coats, and gesture towards the sitting room.

"Happy Christmas, Lily," Petunia said as she rose from her place on the sofa. The sisters greeted each other with an awkward kiss on the cheek, and Petunia nodded somewhat cordially to Lily's companions before gesturing towards the empty seats.

"Drinks?" she asked. Lily and Sirius accepted the offered wine, while Harry and Draco requested water. There was a pregnant silence in which everyone merely stared at each other and into their glasses before the door to the sitting room opened, admitting two people.

The first person who entered was someone they already knew – Vernon Dursley. He harrumphed an "afternoon" by way of greeting – considering his outward dislike of them, the utterance was positively polite – and headed straight for the bar, where he poured himself a generous glass of brandy.

The woman who followed Vernon into the room could only be his sister. She was just as round as he, with a thick neck that hardly showed beneath her prominent chins, a hideous cardigan that strained over her large bosom, and beady little eyes. She even had a hint of a mustache above her upper lip, although it wasn't nearly as prominent as her brother's bushy one. Her eyes narrowed a little as she took in her company, and Harry shifted his glass nervously in his hands – if Vernon had already spoken to her about their expected company, Harry doubted he'd said anything good. Just as quickly, however, the large woman schooled her features into a simpering smile and held out a fat hand towards Lily.

"You must be Lily," she said. "Marge Dursley. And who might these three be?"

"This is my son, Harry; his godfather, Sirius; and Sirius' cousin's son, Draco," Lily replied, pointing to each of them in turn.

"An…interesting set of relationships," Marge commented.

"We all live together," Lily said.

"I see. Charmed, I'm sure." But Marge sounded far from it. Secretly, Harry was glad that Marge hadn't made a move to shake hands with him too – aside from being repulsively overweight, her hands were visibly sweaty and disgusting.

Conversation remained on idle topics until dinner finished cooking, for which the boys were glad – Marge kept shooting them odd looks as if she were dying to say something about them but couldn't figure out how. As long as Uncle Vernon droned on about his drills, they were safe. In fact, the most interesting sight of the whole afternoon was Ripper, Marge's temperamental old bulldog, sending tea and drool flying all over the carpet as he lapped from a saucer. Judging from Aunt Petunia's barely suppressed grimaces, she hated the animal's presence and what it meant for her spotless house. Finally, dinner was ready, and they all headed into the dining room, where a lavishly decorated table awaited them.

The group remained fairly quiet throughout the meal, speaking mostly only to request the passing of this or that dish. Harry commented favorably on the homemade glaze coating the Christmas ham – it truly was delicious – and Aunt Petunia managed to thank him, though she looked a tad surprised as she did so. Uncle Vernon bored them all again with talk of a golf game he'd played with his marketing team, and Lily managed to coax a few words out of Dudley about his school, although the large boy seemed much more concerned with his meal than anything else.

Everything fell apart over dessert. Marge, who'd been generous with the brandy all evening, turned and addressed her sister-in-law.

"An interesting family you've got, Petunia."

Harry kept his gaze focused on his pie but inwardly bristled. _We're sitting in the same room, thank you very much._

"Er…well, you know that only Lily and Harry are my blood relatives, yes?" Petunia managed to say. Even she looked uncomfortable at Marge's brashness, which made Harry relax somewhat – his aunt was curt and cold, but perhaps she wasn't completely horrible.

"Yes, I believe she mentioned something of the sort," Marge replied, sloshing more brandy into her glass. A few drops of the liquid hit the tablecloth as her unsteady hand wavered. "Then something about cousins and living together – honestly, as if I didn't know what _that_ meant."

Harry's anger resurfaced as rapidly as it had dissipated. What the _hell_ was this woman's problem?

"Excuse me?" Lily said, her eyebrows raised.

"You heard me." Marge took a large gulp of brandy. "Petunia told me your husband's been dead for twelve years now – so where does this one fit into the equation?" She waved a hand towards Draco, nearly knocking over Dudley's glass in the process.

"What do you mean?" Lily asked evenly, though her voice was shaking slightly.

"Well obviously you're lying about this one's age," Marge slurred, pointing at Draco again and actually succeeding in upsetting Dudley's glass this time. "He looks _nothing_ like this one over here" – her finger moved from Draco to Harry – "and _he_ doesn't look much like you so he must look like his father, and I know enough about breeding to know that they can't _possibly_ be twins…"

"What the _hell!"_

Harry stood up so abruptly that his chair fell over backwards. Any other outcries from his family members – and he knew they'd come, as he could still see their angry expressions and moving mouths – fell on deaf ears as he glared furiously at Marge. He knew what she was insinuating, and he was _livid._

"Got something to say to me, boy?" Marge drawled, slopping brandy all down her front before belching loudly.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Harry growled. "Did you not hear my aunt say that _only_ my mum and I are her blood relatives?"

"Rubbish," Marge scoffed. "An easy lie to cover up for her sister's wanton ways. You needn't do that, dear," she said consolingly to Petunia, who was now looking horrorstruck.

"Marge…"

"Shut _up!" _Harry roared. "That was _not_ a lie, so you can just shut up about it right now!"

"Harry…" Lily began.

_"No,_ Mum," Harry said. "I can't put up with this crap anymore. I'm not going to listen to a complete stranger imply such things about my family, but I'm sure as hell not going to explain the reality of it either. She doesn't deserve the truth."

"Insolent little whelp," Marge glared. "Just because you're too stupid to see that Mummy dearest changes lovers like most women change clothes…"

"THAT'S IT!"

Harry was positively shaking with fury, and Lily and Sirius realized too late the danger of the situation. Sirius leapt to his feet and tried to restrain his godson, but the damage was done, and a burst of uncontrolled magic slammed straight into Marge's chest. Almost immediately, she began swelling up like a balloon, seams ripping and buttons popping as she inflated.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?" Uncle Vernon roared. "YOU PUT HER RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

"NO!" Harry shouted back. "NOT UNTIL SHE TAKES BACK WHAT SHE SAID!"

"Harry, no!" Lily cried. Angry tears coursed down her cheeks as she held tightly to Draco, who was adding his own thoughts to the fray and clearly wanted to join his brother in hexing Marge into next week. "Sirius, we need help! Get in touch with Arthur, now!" Sirius heard her and raced outside, and they heard the faint 'pop' of Disapparition. No longer in his godfather's clenches, Harry merely collapsed onto the floor, his frame still visibly shivering with rage. When Sirius returned some ten minutes later with Arthur Weasley and a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, the shouting match was still going on, Ripper was barking madly and had bitten half the group in his vain attempts to reach his mistress, and Marge seemed glued to the ceiling, her inflated features creepily distorted.

"Bloody Merlin," the other wizard muttered. "You weren't kidding…"  
"No, I wasn't," Sirius snapped. "Now can we get on with it, please?"

Some fifteen minutes later, Marge was back to her normal size, her mind blissfully ignorant of the entire encounter. Harry thought it more than a bit unfair that she was the only one who received a Memory Charm – if he ever had to relive that horrible exchange again, it'd be too soon. Uncle Vernon immediately demanded they leave, and after a hasty goodbye to Aunt Petunia, they did as he asked without a backward glance. Some quick thinking on Mr. Weasley's part led to another selective Memory Charm as soon as Draco and Sirius were in the car – the Ministry official was a good enough bloke, but they couldn't trust anyone knowing the extent of the two Blacks' relationship with the Potters. Unfortunately, however, they couldn't remove the man's knowledge of the event entirely, as others at the Ministry had overheard the exchange and witnessed him leaving, and his next words made Harry's blood run cold:

"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I'm going to have to request your presence at the Ministry in three days' time."

* * *

**A/N: Well _that_ was an intense scene to write...**

**Thanks much for the follows/faves/reviews - I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter (& any previous that strike your fancy), so please consider dropping me a line! Feedback is very helpful.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Thanks for reading, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	12. At Odds with the Minister

The next few days were incredibly tense. Hermione, convinced that the Ministry official was way off his line by calling Harry in, surrounded herself with books and proceeded to do what she did best – research. She spent hours camped out in the Potters' living room, large tomes forming a neat circle around her seated form as she tore through their pages in search of anything that might prove her point. Draco took his frustrations with the situation out on the piano, his fingers pounding out every piece of music he could get his hands on, while Harry merely lay flat on his back between the two of them, staring up at the ceiling as if in shock. In reality, he was as deep in thought as the other two, his mind oscillating between the horrible memories of Christmas Day and the equally horrible unknown of what was to come.

_"Merlin," _he thought as he recalled the Ministry official's chagrinned expression. _"I've never heard of anyone doing such severe accidental magic before, not after they'd gone to Hogwarts. Can they really punish me for that, and if so, what sort of punishment should I prepare for? Is it bad enough for them to kick me out of school?"_ The mere thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

As if reading his mind, Hermione said, "Well, they can't expel you, that much is certain – only the headmaster has the power to do that. In fact, it doesn't really seem like they have the power to do _anything_ in this situation, which is why I'm so confused…" Draco growled in agreement as he plunked out a series of particularly dissonant chords before tossing his sheet music across the room.

"I hate that piece," he muttered, "and I hate the Ministry. Leave it to them to screw up our Christmas vacation."

"I think _she_ did that first," Harry reminded his brother, who narrowed his eyes in tacit concurrence. He refused to refer to Marge by name unless he absolutely had to.

The appointed morning arrived far faster than anyone wanted it to, and Harry soon found himself nervously trying to flatten his hair as Lily straightened his collar. After receiving one last round of fierce hugs and well wishes, the two Potters left for London. The car ride was much calmer than the Knight Bus would've been, but the trip was also much longer, and Harry couldn't keep from fidgeting. The closer they got, the more nervous they became, and by the time Lily parked the car, he had to grab hold of the door for a moment to steady his shaking knees.

"Come, then," Lily said softly, reaching over to squeeze her son's shoulder in support. Harry leaned into the comforting touch before dutifully following his mother to the visitors' entrance, which was concealed within an out-of-order phone booth. After glancing at the letter they'd received from the official, Lily picked up the receiver and dialed the provided number.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," a cool female voice said once the dial had rotated back into place. "Please state your name and business."

"Lily Potter, escorting Harry Potter to a meeting with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad," Lily said in an equally calm tone. Harry had no idea how his mother managed to remain so collected – his insides felt like they were doing the conga. The voice thanked them and gave further instructions, upon the completion of which two silver identification badges appeared in the coin retrieval slot.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium," the voice said. The phone booth slowly began to sink, falling further and further downwards until they could no longer see daylight. Finally, the telephone box stopped and the door opened, revealing a wide, open room that could only be the Ministry's main thoroughfare.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

In spite of his nerves, Harry couldn't help but admire the hall, which was very splendid indeed. The highly polished wooden floors were so shiny that he could see his reflection in them, and the row of fireplaces on either side of him crackled merrily as witches and wizards arrived or departed by Floo. A massive golden fountain containing the figures of a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf stood in the middle of the room, the water providing a pleasing background hum as it cascaded into the pool below. As they got closer, Harry noticed the glinting of coins littering the fountain's basin, and a small sign told him that all such donations went to St. Mungo's.

"This way, Harry," Lily said, ushering him away from the fountain to a desk off to the left. The witch behind the desk gave them an extremely bored look and smacked her gum loudly as she registered their wands.

"There you go," she drawled, handing back the wands. "Lifts are just through there, you'll want level three." They followed her instructions into a corridor filled with golden-grilled lifts and soon boarded. A number of Ministry workers came and went as the lift slowly ascended, but Harry hardly took notice – he was too fixated on the needle above the door, which was steadily making its way towards the dreaded number three.

"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee," spoke the same female voice they'd heard in the telephone box. The lift doors opened, and the two Potters made their way down the hall. Harry couldn't help but gape at the windows, which must've been charmed – it had been cloudy when they'd arrived in London, but the view out the windows rather resembled a hurricane.

"This must be it," Lily murmured. They'd reached a series of cubicles, the closest of which bore a sign reading, 'Accidental Magic Reversal Squad'.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked. The speaker was a man, probably in his forties by the look of him, wearing tailored green robes and a curious expression.

"Er…yes," Lily managed. "We're looking for Ian Richardson's office, if you don't mind."

"Right this way," the wizard said. He led them through the cubicles to an office near the back of the area. Lily thanked him and knocked before anyone could have second thoughts.

"Come in!"

The office in which Lily and Harry found themselves was small, but homey. A multicolored woven rug covered most of the floor, and two comfortable-looking chairs sat before a carved wooden desk. Behind this desk sat the office's owner, who had evidently been reading over the series of reports scattered across the blotter when they'd arrived. The wall behind the desk was covered with photographs, most of which seemed to feature some combination of himself, a woman, and two children, and a number of drawings. If Harry had to guess, he'd say that the people in the pictures were Mr. Richardson's family, and the artwork was the product of his children.

"Ah yes, Mrs. Potter," the official said, standing from his spot to shake hands. Lily, however, was the first to notice that Mr. Richardson was not alone, and she froze when she realized who his companion was.

"Minister Fudge," she said, sounding a little shocked. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting – we can wait outside until you're done."

"No, no," Mr. Richardson insisted. "Er…that is, Minister Fudge is here to speak with you."

"With me?" Lily repeated. "With all due respect, sir, we didn't exactly drop in for a teatime chat."

"Of course not, Mrs. Potter," Fudge said smoothly, speaking for the first time. Harry didn't say so aloud, but he thought the portly man's lime green bowler hat clashed horribly with his purple robes, and his voice sounded weak. "Do have a seat, will you? I'd just like to talk to you regarding what happened the other day."

"Wait…_what?"_ Lily asked, sounding shocked. "Since when does the Minister himself get involved in matters of accidental magic?"

"I just want to talk," Fudge repeated. "Now, Harry – would you mind telling us what happened, my boy?" Harry didn't like the familiarity of Fudge's address, but he didn't want to be rude, so he complied.

"It was an accident, I promise," he began, inwardly fighting to hold himself together at the mere memory of the incident. "I just…she – my cousin's aunt, that is – was saying such horrible things about my mum, and I couldn't stand it anymore, and I just…snapped." He had to admit his statement sounded kind of lame, but he couldn't think of a better way to phrase it.

"This woman is your aunt?" Mr. Richardson clarified as he took notes.

"No," Harry replied. "She's my uncle Vernon's sister – it's his wife, my aunt Petunia, who's my blood relative. We're not related."

"I see." Mr. Richardson scribbled something onto his report.

"What sort of things was she saying?" Fudge asked. He seemed much more interested than he probably should have been, given it was a mere case of accidental magic, and Harry paused, frowning slightly. Marge had been insinuating that Draco was some sort of bastard love child and that Sirius was Lily's latest in a long series of extramarital affairs – how could he get across the gist of what she'd said without speaking of either of them?

"I…well, I don't really want to say," Harry began. "It was really horrible."

"Come now, Harry. It can't possibly have been that bad," Fudge coaxed. Again, Harry was suspicious.

"She accused my mum of having numerous affairs," Harry said shortly after a moment's pause. Hopefully that explanation would be enough to satisfy the nosy man.

"Minister, I really would like to know why you're here," Lily insisted. "My friends and I had countless instances of accidental magic growing up and never once found ourselves summoned to the Ministry – what exactly is going on?"

"Mrs. Potter, what can you tell me about Sirius Black?" Fudge asked suddenly.

"I…_what?"_

"Oh, come now – I know you know where he is. He's wanted for the murder of your husband…or have you forgotten?"

_"Excuse me?"_ Lily said, her voice a dangerous hiss. "If you think for one minute I'd have forgotten that my husband is dead, then you need to have your head examined. And for another, do you _really_ think I'd let my husband's killer roam free, especially if I knew where he was? Sirius Black had nothing to do with James' death, I assure you."

"Utter rubbish," Fudge scoffed. "He was your Secret-Keeper!"

"Until we switched to someone else!" Lily practically shouted. Her cheeks were nearly as red as her hair, which was threatening to come loose from its ponytail from all her agitated movements. "And quite frankly, we kept the switch a secret for a reason – too many people knew that Sirius was the original Secret-Keeper, and as we definitely didn't tell _you_ that fact, somebody else must've let it slip, which only reinforces my point. Who our Secret-Keeper was is absolutely none of your business, Minister, so I'd ask you kindly to stay out of it!"

"What about Draco Malfoy?" interrupted Fudge. "He disappeared without a trace at the age of four, yet is now attending Hogwarts, using his mother's maiden name, which just so happens to link him to Sirius Black. You can't possibly tell me that's a coincidence."

"Minister Fudge," Lily said evenly, though Harry could tell she was trying very hard not to explode, "Surely you understand the need for secrecy in today's world? If Narcissa Malfoy wanted her son's whereabouts publicized, don't you think she would've done so? Furthermore, he's now halfway through his third year – is the only reason you waited until now to bring this up because you needed an excuse to drag me here?"

"Mrs. Potter-" Fudge began feebly.

_"No,"_ Lily said firmly. "I should've known this meeting was bogus as soon as your dear official" – here she glared at Mr. Richardson, who shrank back at her angry expression – "told us we had to come here. How long have you been plotting this meeting, Fudge? Since Harry started at Hogwarts? Since Draco disappeared? Since James was murdered? You had to plant the idea with Mr. Richardson here somehow. And speaking of you, Mr. Richardson," she continued, turning her attention back to the now cowering man, "You have children, do you not?" He nodded as she gestured to the pictures covering his back wall.

"Two, Mrs. Potter," he said shakily. "Twelve and seven, they are."

"And have they done accidental magic before?" Lily demanded.

"Of…of course," he mumbled. "It's almost impossible for it not to happen…"

"And have _they_ ever been called out on it by the Ministry? Have they ever been told that accidental magic is _wrong?"_

"N-no…"

"Then _why are we here?"_ Lily seethed. "Minister, next time you want to meet with someone, might I suggest you tell them what you want upfront, rather than hiding behind a pathetic excuse that doesn't even make sense in the first place?"

"You must understand…I really must know…for the good of…"

"The good of who? Sirius? Draco? The Wizarding community? Or your own satisfaction? Last I checked, the Ministry doesn't keep this close tabs on its ordinary citizens – and if they do, I think we have the right to know about it. Neither of the people I've just mentioned have done anything wrong, and I think they'd agree with me when I ask you to leave them alone."

"Harry…" Fudge began.

"Leave my son out of this," Lily snapped. "You've already ruined his Christmas holiday by dragging him into this mess – he's been worried out of his mind for the last three days. The incident with Marge was an accident, and we're not giving you the information you want." She picked up her scarf and began winding it around her neck. "If you have nothing more to say, gentlemen, I'd like to get on with my day."

"I'll get you to talk eventually," Fudge vowed. "You'll see reason soon enough."

"Right," Lily scoffed. "Mr. Richardson, I apologize – I can see it's not your fault you got dragged into this. Good day, sir, Minister." Without another word, she pulled Harry from the office and back towards the lifts.

When Sirius, Draco, and the Grangers heard their story, there was a prompt explosion of protestations.

"That's absolutely ridiculous!"

"I told you the Ministry's nothing but scum…"

"I mean, all governments house corruption to an extent, but this is just bad…"

"Did he _really_ think he was going to get away with that? He had no right to question you like that!"

And on and on and on.

The one thing they all agreed on was the absurdity of the whole thing. Nobody seemed to want to voice their unspoken worry, however – what else was the Minister keeping from them? And if they couldn't trust the Ministry now, what would happen when the war came to the forefront once again?

* * *

**A/N: So this chapter just went in a completely different direction from how I first intended...funny how that happens sometimes. Don't worry though, I hadn't forgotten that the Ministry can't kick Harry out of school. ;)**

**As always, thanks for the follows/faves/reviews! If you have a second, please consider letting me know what you thought of this chapter - feedback is most helpful.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Thanks for reading, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	13. Back at Hogwarts

Hermione dropped to one knee and raked the back of her hand furiously across her sweaty forehead, breathing heavily. Beside her, Ginny had collapsed and was now flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.

_"Merlin,_ Hermione," Ginny gasped. "That was intense!" The girls had just finished a circuit of physical training within the Room of Requirement, which had provided them with more than ample space in which to run, jump, and fly. They'd been working through numerous drills, both in the air and on the ground, for the last hour, and they were both exhausted.

"Gotta stay on top of things," Hermione managed in reply.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ginny asked. Hermione had worked herself even harder than usual this session, almost as if she were taking out pent-up anger on the training ground.

"I'm fine…" Hermione began; at Ginny's pointed look, however, she sighed and shook her head.

"Alright, fine," she conceded. "I'm not. I've been really stressed this year, and it's only getting worse. I made a serious mistake signing up for as many classes as I did – it's not that I can't handle the work, per se, but there's so much of it that I'm not getting as much sleep as I should." Ginny nodded in understanding.

"I get it," she said. "I feel overworked a lot, and I only have the required classes for first- and second-years – I can only imagine how much worse it is for you. But schoolwork isn't the only thing bothering you, is it?" Hermione sighed again. Ginny really was almost too perceptive.

"No, it's not. There's the whole thing with the Ministry – if that's not a bad omen, I don't know what it is – and the prophecy. You remember, the one the Sorting Hat gave at the end of last year?"

"Yeah," Ginny said. "I do. It sounded really complicated – something about numbers and a legend?" Hermione nodded vigorously and proceeded to fill Ginny in on what they'd uncovered since then, including their meeting with Dumbledore and their thoughts on the elusive rings.

"Way to keep me in the dark," Ginny muttered, though she did so good-naturedly. "Sounds like we've got our work cut out for us. And I suspect you're not done listing your grievances, are you?"

"Do you remember the hippogriff incident, from the first day of school?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah…what about it?" Ginny hadn't witnessed it, of course, but she'd heard all about it from the trio.

"Well…I've been in touch with Hagrid since then, since I was worried about what was going to happen," Hermione said. "I got this the first day back after Christmas." She extracted a wrinkled piece of parchment from her bag. The note, written in Hagrid's messy scrawl, was a bit hard to read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_Thanks for all your concern about Buckbeak. He's doing alright at the moment, but I've got to take him to London for his trial next month. I'm worried that he won't make it – the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures has never been known to be fair. I'll let you know when I know more._

_Hagrid_

"What?" Ginny said softly.

"Someone ratted Hagrid out," Hermione replied, looking worried. "I'll bet you anything it was Nott – he was the one who caused the whole mess in the first place, after all, and I think his family has connections in the Ministry. Regardless, unless Hagrid can prove that Buckbeak didn't hurt Draco on purpose, he'll lose the trial."

"Ouch." Ginny winced. "But you said Hagrid told you all that you shouldn't insult hippogriffs."

"Of course he did. He explained quite clearly what we should and shouldn't do – Nott either wasn't listening, or he was and deliberately caused trouble."

"Either way, Draco should be able to tell them straight away that it was an accident, since from what you told me he didn't do anything to antagonize Buckbeak," Ginny replied. "And speaking of Draco – what's going on with you two?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Hermione, don't try to deny it," Ginny said. "You two have been on tenterhooks with each other all year – it's obvious something's wrong. What happened?"

"I guess I really haven't found much time to talk to you, have I?" Hermione said. She then told Ginny all about the Defense lesson with the boggart, including everything that had happened afterwards.

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny sighed once her friend had finished. "You can't keep bottling all this up inside you, you're just going to hurt yourself." She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around her friend's shoulders, which were shaking slightly.

"I'm sorry, Gin," Hermione stammered. "I just…it was so awful. The look in his eyes…I can't even imagine what I'd do if that were to happen again – for real, I mean…"

"It won't," Ginny said firmly.

"How can you know that, Gin?" Hermione asked exasperatedly. "He has immediate family members in Voldemort's inner circle, and he spent four years living with that every day – how do we know some of that didn't rub off on him?"

"We don't," Ginny admitted, "but we do know that he's spent far longer living with people who love him unconditionally, people who've given him a far better life than the one he left behind. His mum loved him enough to make sure he had that chance, and I'd say Draco's embraced that wholeheartedly. And he cares about you far too much to ever let something like your boggart happen so easily."

"Oh, stop it," Hermione scoffed.

"Hermione, we both know Draco would do anything for you," Ginny said quietly. "The fact that he was so torn up about your boggart should tell you how much he cares. And it's not like the brother-sister connection you have with Harry – not that that's not special, because it is, but this is different."

"Hasn't stopped him from being a prat this year," Hermione grumbled. Ginny merely hugged Hermione tighter, knowing that there was too little she could say to make the situation any better and too much that could make it worse.

* * *

Draco, Tracey, and Blaise sat around the low coffee table in front of the Slytherin common room fireplace, speaking very little as they revised their Potions essays. Every so often, the latter two would exchange glances, silently wondering what was up with their friend. Draco's behavior had been off for the better part of the school year, and while Tracey and Blaise knew it had to do with Hermione, Draco had refused to tell them exactly what was wrong. This had them worried, as they knew just how close Hermione and Draco were and didn't want to see that relationship fall apart over something stupid. However, they also knew that Draco could be extremely stubborn when he wanted to be – pushing him to open up would get them nowhere.

"There, that does it," Tracey murmured, finally setting down her quill. "I thought I'd never finish."

"Speak for yourself," Blaise retorted. "I've still got six inches to go and have no idea what to write."

"Did you include the influence the moonstone has on the other ingredients?" Tracey asked. "Remember, Snape said last lesson how important that was…"

"I never took you for a cheater, Davis," said a new voice. They didn't even have to look up to recognize it.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" Blaise asked, glaring up at the intruder.

"Oh, please," Pansy scoffed. "Can't a girl sit with her own housemates without getting the third degree? I just want to talk."

"You want to talk," Tracey repeated flatly.

"Apparently she's deaf, too," Pansy muttered.

"Oh, knock it off," Draco snapped, speaking for the first time in a while. "Tell us what you want, or leave." To his surprise, Pansy smirked a little.

"Not bad, Black, not bad…and I already said what I'm here for – I want to talk. To you."

"Why would you want to talk to us?" Blaise questioned. "You usually make it quite clear what you think of us."

"When I said 'you', I didn't mean in the plural sense," Pansy retorted. "I want to talk to Draco. Therefore, you two are the ones who need to leave."

"Parkinson…" Blaise began, but Draco cut him off.

"It's fine," he said shortly. "You two can stay here, and we'll go somewhere else. I'm sure whatever she has to say won't take long."

"Be careful, Drake," Blaise muttered, quietly enough that Pansy couldn't hear. "You know what she's like."

"Trust me, I do," Draco replied. After reassuring his friends that he'd be fine, he turned and followed Pansy out of the common room.

"Alright, what's this about?" Draco demanded as soon as the common room's entrance slid back into place. Instead of replying, Pansy grabbed a fistful of his robes and proceeded to drag him down the corridor.

"What the-"

"We can't just talk in the middle of the hall, Draco," Pansy interrupted. It wasn't long before they came upon an empty classroom.

"In here," she said, urging Draco inside and shutting the door after them.

"Parkinson, what's going on?" Draco asked again. The classroom they were in looked like it hadn't been used in a while, if the thick coating of dust was anything to go by.

"Can't a girl be concerned about her housemates?" Pansy asked innocently.

"What?" Draco was thoroughly confused.

"I'm worried about you, Draco," she repeated. "You haven't been yourself this year, not at all. And you're wasting so much potential."

"Could you get to the point, please?" Draco said testily. "I do have to finish that essay tonight." Pansy took a step closer, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to one side.

"You have so much potential – I'm with you in almost every class, so I know you're an exceptionally good wizard, and your very blood screams power – and yet you're wasting it."

"I really don't think you can judge-"

"Draco, Draco," Pansy murmured, shaking her head slowly. "You're part of the proud house of Slytherin, connected to two of the most ancient bloodlines in magical Britain – you won't be able to resist that pull for long. Even you aren't _that _good." She stepped forward again until she was close enough to reach out and touch him.

"Are you telling me you don't _want_ that power?" she whispered, slowly walking her fingers up his arm. "Are you telling me you don't want to restore the Malfoy name to all its former glory? That the idea of ruling Slytherin House doesn't appeal to you?"

"Parkinson, you're pushing it," Draco warned, narrowing his eyes at her. Pansy merely smirked in response.

"Of course I am," she said quietly. "The question is, are _you_ willing to push it?" She stepped back and studied him for a long moment before retreating towards the door, which she cracked open.

"You could be great – so great, Draco," she said. "Don't let yourself be anything less than who you were meant to be." Raising her fingers to her lips, she blew him a kiss, slipped through the crack in the door, and was gone.

As soon as he was alone, Draco sank to his knees, massaging his temples with his fingertips. Most of what Pansy had said was utter rubbish – he certainly had no intention of jumping ship to join Voldemort's cause anytime soon – and he was sick of her blatant flirting, but he couldn't get one of her questions out of his head: _"Are you telling me you don't want to restore the Malfoy name to all its former glory?"_

Of course he wanted to restore his family name, to bring it to a place of pride once more – but how far was he willing to go to do that? Was he willing to, as Pansy put it, 'push it'?

The fact that he couldn't answer that question made him more apprehensive than he wanted to admit.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to try this, Harry?" Lupin asked as they prepared themselves in the Defense classroom one evening after dinner.

"I'm sure," Harry said firmly. "I don't want those things to have that kind of power over me."

"Very well. Just keep in mind that this is very advanced magic, going beyond what is usually taught at Hogwarts, so don't be discouraged if it turns out you can't get it."

"Even if I find out I can't, at least I'll know I tried," Harry replied.

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Lupin said with a chuckle. "Alright, then. In order to conjure a Patronus, you must focus very hard on a single happy memory. The incantation is _Expecto Patronum…"_

* * *

Hermione sat at a table in the back of the library, poring over a number of thick books. She'd taken a break from her mountains of homework to do research for Hagrid's case, but she wasn't getting very far. So far, she'd found references to trials involving manticores, chimeras, and even other hippogriffs, but none of the information was promising – in fact, every single creature she'd read about had been convicted and executed in increasingly gruesome ways. Hermione cringed as she unwittingly came across a particularly vivid illustration and slammed her book shut with a snap.

"Mind if I sit here?" Hermione looked up, surprised when she found herself meeting Ron Weasley's gaze.

"Oh…er, no, go ahead," she said, shifting a pile of parchment aside to make room.

"What are you working on?" Ron asked as he settled his bag next to his chair.

"I'm trying to help Hagrid, but it isn't going very well," Hermione admitted. When Ron gave her a questioning look, she reminded him of the incident with Buckbeak and told him about the upcoming trial.

"Maybe I could…maybe I could help?" Ron suggested, looking unsure of himself.

"You want to help?" Hermione repeated. "I…well, that's very kind of you, thank you – but why?" Ron shrugged.

"You're not yourself," he said simply. "I can tell you've been super stressed out this year. Obviously I can't help you with your homework – and even if I could, I don't think it'd help much, since you're loads better at academics than I am anyway – but I can read books well enough. Maybe two heads will be better than one?" Hermione smiled, genuinely touched. She and Ron weren't close, and there was still the awkwardness of the basilisk incident in the back of their minds, but she knew his heart was in the right place.

"Thank you, Ron," she said quietly. "Yes, I definitely think I'd like your help."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the extra day's wait - had a bit of trouble with this chapter. The next one will be a bit more exciting, I promise.**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, as well as to everyone reading this.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please review, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	14. Snap

The winter term crept slowly by, the students bogged down with work as always. Hermione was rarely seen without an army of books and parchment at her side, and the older students began nervously sorting their notes once they realized that O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were approaching faster than they'd originally thought. Percy Weasley nearly reduced a first-year to tears when he shouted at the boy for 'practicing Charms too loudly' while the prefect was attempting to study in the Gryffindor common room. The incident had the entirety of Gryffindor House on edge for weeks, and even after the commotion had died down a bit, they didn't dare disturb Percy – or any of their older comrades, for that matter – for fear of being hexed into next week.

In late February, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw met on the Quidditch pitch. As Gryffindor's ability to remain contenders for the Quidditch Cup depended on their victory, the whole house turned up to watch the match, dressed from head to toe in scarlet and gold and waving charmed banners they'd made themselves. Even Hermione, who'd been nearly invisible behind a sea of notes mere hours before, had taken a break from her work to watch, her Gryffindor scarf proudly on display.

"And it's Davies of Ravenclaw in possession…" Lee Jordan, the Weasley twins' best friend, was commentating as always, doing his best to keep up as the Quaffle changed hands rapidly and the Bludgers rocketed around the pitch at top speed.

_"Brilliant_ save by Wood, keeps the score in Gryffindor's favor!"

As Hermione had predicted back after the disastrous Hufflepuff match, this game was far more difficult for the Lions, as Ravenclaw had what could only be described as a superb trio of Chasers. They weren't quite as good as they'd been two years prior, having lost one of the best players Ravenclaw had seen in decades to the real world, but they were still a solid unit and executed complicated moves in a way that even their opponents couldn't help but admire.

"Alicia Spinnet streaking up the pitch, drops the Quaffle to Katie Bell, who SCORES! Fifty-thirty Gryffindor!"

A cheer rang up from the Gryffindor supporters while an equally audible hiss came from the Slytherins, who were – predictably – supporting Ravenclaw over their longtime rivals. The trio of Slytherins who normally joined the Gryffindors was noticeably absent – Hermione, seated between Ron and Ginny and entirely focused on Harry's circling form far overhead, didn't seem to have noticed, but Ginny certainly had, and she scanned the stadium with a frown whenever there was a temporary lull in the action. She'd finally located their Slytherin friends about ten minutes ago – they were sitting nearly directly across the stands from the Gryffindors, and after a bit of staring in their general direction, she was able to catch Blaise's eye. When he saw Ginny, Blaise merely cocked his head towards Draco and rolled his eyes, shaking his head to emphasize the gesture for Ginny's benefit. Luckily for him, Ginny understood.

_So that's it, then. I dunno what Draco thinks he's going to accomplish by distancing himself from Hermione like he is, but he's definitely got the wrong idea, that's for sure. She just thinks he's being a prat – and to be honest, he kind of is._

Ginny's inner ramblings were interrupted by a roar of approval from her housemates, who were celebrating another great save courtesy of Wood. The contagious nature of the moment took over, and she left her thoughts of Draco behind to join her fellow Lions in their chanting.

Meanwhile, high above their heads, Harry was having issues of his own. He couldn't have asked for a better day to play Quidditch, even if it was a bit cold, but the Ravenclaw Seeker was seriously starting to get on his nerves. Though a year older than Harry, Cho Chang was more than a head shorter, with long, glossy black hair and delicate features. He'd supposed, at first, that she was pretty enough, but all thoughts of Cho Chang's looks vanished the instant the match started – instead of searching for the Snitch, Cho seemed intent on getting Harry out of the way however she could. He'd nearly run into her twice when she'd shown up suddenly, blocking him out of nowhere, and she spent a solid fifteen minutes tailing him so closely that they were in danger of colliding if either of them stopped short.

"Knock her off her broom if you have to, Harry!" Wood shouted when a steep dive to avoid Cho brought Harry close to the Gryffindor goal posts.

"I have half a mind to," Harry muttered as he shot off again. It was blatantly obvious that Cho wasn't even trying to find the Snitch for herself, and there was no way in hell that Harry was going to do the work for her. Taking advantage of the slight edge he had on her in the broom quality department, Harry raced off across the field and finally managed to lose his unwanted shadow.

Fifteen minutes later, he spotted his prize – the Snitch was floating along right in the middle of the pitch, roughly eye level with the spectators. Flattening himself against the handle of his broom, Harry shot forward, scattering the surprised Ravenclaw Chasers and the Weasley twins before he reached the little golden ball.

"Yes!"

The scarlet and gold block of the stands exploded in celebration – they were still in the running! Harry grinned broadly as he waved towards his friends, the Snitch still safely housed in his closed fist, before making his way downward. Just before he landed, he saw Cho complaining to Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, and trying to justify why she hadn't been anywhere near the Snitch when the game had ended.

"Great catch, Harry!" Fred exclaimed, thumping him enthusiastically on the back.

"We've still got a chance at the Cup!" Alicia cried. "This is our year, I know it!"

"Team, locker room!" Wood shouted. "We can party afterwards, let's go!"

As usual, the post-match celebrations lasted the rest of the day and well into the evening – even Percy Weasley couldn't keep his housemates from being loud and raucous when they'd won a Quidditch match.

Come Sunday morning, it was back to business in Gryffindor Tower. The common room was quiet as those who chose to study there pored over books and occasionally scribbled something on a spare piece of parchment. Hermione and Ron met in the library after lunch to discuss their findings related to Buckbeak's case, and though they hadn't found much, they were hopeful that what little they had might be a good start. The trial had come and gone already, but the verdict was as of yet unknown, and they wanted to be prepared in case there was a need for an appeal. Ron, as it turned out, wasn't a half bad researcher when he actually put his mind to it – unfortunately, this didn't happen often, as was evidenced by his mediocre marks and frequent confusion when it came to their class work, but he seemed to be genuinely invested in helping Hermione research for the trial. She wasn't quite sure why, but as she was so swamped with her own work, she appreciated the effort all the same. As she spent more time with the redhead, she discovered that he had a great sense of humor (even if his jokes were terrible) and was a brilliant strategist due to his love of wizard's chess. While she wasn't as close with Ron as she was with Harry, Hermione genuinely enjoyed the time she spent in Ron's company, and she quite liked the idea that she might soon consider him a friend as opposed to just a classmate.

On Monday, the Gryffindors had something new to talk about, as the Fat Lady finally returned to her rightful place at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Filch had painstakingly restored her painting until it was as good as new, but the poor woman was obviously still nervous, and Dumbledore brought in a group of security trolls to guard her. The trolls creeped out the first-years and annoyed everyone else, as they held up their clubs at anything that moved, but if that was the price they had to pay for having their beloved guardian back, they'd take it. The only challenge was the password, which seemed to change even more frequently than usual and was often lengthy, difficult to pronounce, or both. Neville, who'd always had trouble remembering the password to begin with, found himself stuck outside the common room on more than one occasion before he finally decided that attempting to return to the tower alone wasn't a good idea anymore and took to camping out in one of the spare greenhouses during his breaks. As Neville was top of their year in Herbology, Professor Sprout didn't seem to mind, and Neville told them over dinner one evening that the kind witch was even giving him some special projects to work on while he was out there. Knowing how much their housemate loved plants prompted Harry to ask what sort of things he was doing, and they spent the rest of that dinner listening to Neville's tales of all sorts of exotic specimens.

As with most uncomfortable situations, there can only be so much tension before something snaps, and the silent feud between Draco and Hermione had reached epic proportions. The Room of Requirement had gotten so awkward that the group hardly spent any time there at all anymore, the two sat as far away from each other as possible in the few classes they shared, and their friends were very close to losing their patience, Ginny in particular. Though definitely one of the more even-tempered of the Weasleys, Ginny's 'redheaded side' made itself known on occasion, and she was incredibly close to just locking the two of them in a broom closet until they'd reconciled their issues with each other.

Unfortunately, Ginny didn't get a chance to try her broom cupboard test, but she did get to witness the breaking point. It was a Friday and almost April, and many students had spent part of their lunch hour outside enjoying one of the first nice days Hogwarts had seen in a long while. Ron and Hermione had grabbed sandwiches before heading down to Hagrid's hut to share their latest findings. They'd been dismayed and angry to learn that Buckbeak had lost and was fixed for execution, and they'd redoubled their efforts to find even more information that might help for the appeal.

"Honestly, we've done so much work for this that they can't possibly ignore it all," Hermione was saying as the two made their way across the entrance hall. "Hey, Gin."

"Hey. Any luck?"

"Not really. Hagrid's still really upset, obviously, but we've made some headway thanks to a book Ron found that we'd missed before…"

"Do mine ears deceive me?" a familiar voice said from behind them. They turned around to find Draco staring at them with a curious expression on his face.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"I thought I heard Hermione say that your brother here had found her a book that was actually useful – trying to get into her good graces or something, Weasley? I wasn't even aware you knew what a book _was,_ given your altogether unremarkable efforts in the past…" Draco didn't manage to say anything further, however, as his head suddenly snapped painfully to one side, his cheek smarting and his eyes watering as he struggled to focus on a livid Hermione.

"Let me know when the complete arse who replaced my best friend decides to get lost," she spat. They all heard a single sob escape as she turned on her heel and took off up the stairs without another word.

"Black…" Ron began threateningly, but Ginny silenced him with a look.

_"No,_ Ron," she growled. "It's high time Draco and I had a little chat." Before Draco could protest, Ginny had grabbed him by his tie and was dragging him across the entrance hall into the first unoccupied space she could find, which just so happened to be a broom cupboard. Smirking to herself at the irony, she shoved the Slytherin inside before following him in and slamming the door shut, locking it behind her with a resounding _click._

"Gin, I'm supposed to be in Charms right now…"

"I don't care," Ginny snapped. _"Lumos."_ The light from her wand cast weird shadows throughout the tiny space, and Draco had to admit the petite redhead looked terrifying, glaring at him as she was now.

"You are going to explain to me what the _hell_ is your problem," Ginny nearly growled. "I don't know what's gotten you in such a funk, but you need to cut the crap and get over it. Ron has been nothing but helpful to Hermione this last month, looking up information for Buckbeak's trial like it was his job and being someone she could talk to since _you_ abandoned her, and all you can see fit to do is be a snarky pain in the butt? Drake, _what_ is going on?" Draco sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands.

"I don't know, Gin," he finally managed. "There was the whole thing with the boggart back in September – I'm sure she told you about that?" Ginny nodded and wordlessly gestured for him to continue, crossing her arms over her chest so the wand light shook violently. "I…you can't imagine how much that _hurt,_ Gin. I would never, _ever_ do something like that to her, and just the thought of that being her worst fear, the thought of it becoming _real,_ tore me to pieces. It hurt even more that I found out by accident – she was really stressed about a bunch of things and finally let it slip without meaning to, and Harry had to fill in the rest after she left. We talked briefly a few days later, but it's been hanging between us like some unacknowledged demon since then, and it's just gotten worse as the year's gone on."

"This is really all because you two can't manage to talk it out over a boggart?" Ginny asked in disbelief. "Merlin, Draco, and I thought you were smart – Hermione apologized ages ago, and you yourself told her that you didn't blame her for it and would always be there for her, and yet you've done nothing but push her away since then. And then you had to go and lash out at the one person who _has_ been trying to cheer her up – is it any wonder she snapped?"

"No," Draco said miserably. "I know I deserved it." He couldn't even say what had driven him to say what he did about Ron, and he was utterly ashamed of himself for being so spiteful and mean.

"Damn right you did," Ginny muttered. "I know you've got this whole Slytherin mask that you've got to keep up for the sake of keeping yourself safe, but Godric, _don't_ take it out on her."

"I know, I know!" Draco groaned. "I'm a bloody idiot, I know."

"And I don't suppose it helps that Parkinson's been draping herself all over you every chance she's gotten this year," Ginny added drily. When Draco gave her a look, she continued, "Oh, please. It's obvious to anyone with eyes – except maybe Crabbe and Goyle, but they hardly count."

"I certainly haven't been encouraging her," Draco said with a shudder.

"I know," Ginny agreed, "but it's still happened. Whatever your reasoning – jealousy, confusion, hurt, whatever – you owe Hermione an apology, and it had better be a damn good one. She's been there for you longer than anyone besides your family, and I _know_ you care enough to be there for her in return. It's high time you started showing it, or you're going to lose her." A pregnant silence followed this statement, and they were both reminded of the outside world when the warning bell rang.

"I have to get to Herbology," Ginny said, temporarily blinding them both as she unlocked and opened the closet door. "I don't care how you do it, but for the love of all that is magical, _make things right."_ She then shouldered her bag and slipped through the open doorway, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**A/N: Found myself with a large chunk of free time today, so you guys get an extra chapter this week. Huzzah.**

**Draco, Draco, Draco...next chapter is the Quidditch final, that'll be fun...ooooh dear.**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews, & for reading this story.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	15. A Surprise Recruit

Ginny gave Hermione the rest of the day to cool down before deciding that enough was enough. She'd given Draco the talking-to he deserved, but Hermione was just as much at fault, if not more so, and Ginny wasn't about to let her off without a lecture of her own. A quick search of the library after dinner found the cavernous room devoid of bushy-haired Gryffindors, and as Ron had promised Harry a game of wizard's chess, Ginny suspected that Hermione wasn't at Hagrid's either. The Room of Requirement was out, which left Gryffindor Tower. Ginny took a shortcut through a nondescript tapestry, taking care to avoid the trick step halfway up, and soon found herself facing the Fat Lady. She gave the password ('peppermint toads'), hopped through the portrait hole, and found her quarry seated on the floor by a low coffee table, a thick book open next to a roll of parchment that glistened with drying ink.

"Hermione, we need to talk," Ginny said, striding over to the older girl. Hermione glanced up at her friend, her expression inquisitive.

"Can it wait, Gin?" she asked. "I really need to finish this essay..."

"Herms, I know for a fact that that essay isn't due for another week and a half," Ginny cut in. "I think you can spare a few minutes. Is your dorm empty?"

"Um...yeah." Hermione's expression had changed from curious to slightly worried. "Is something wrong, Gin?"

"You could say that, I guess," Ginny replied after a pause. She turned and headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, Hermione following close behind.

"Alright, what's this about?" Hermione asked once she'd closed the door to the third-years' room.

"We need to talk about what happened this morning," Ginny said.

"What?"

"Hermione, you slapped Draco across the face - don't you think you went a little too far?" Ginny asked.

"I...but...he..."

"No, Hermione. What he said about Ron was wrong - and he admitted it, pretty sincerely I might add, when I dragged him off to talk - but you crossed a line as well. I've tried to be supportive and helpful about this whole thing, but whether you want to admit it or not, you started this whole mess by not telling Draco the truth about your boggart right away. He was hurt and upset by that, way more so than by the actual form the boggart took. You've been dancing around the issue all year, anyone with eyes can see it's taking a toll on your relationship, and quite frankly, it's straining your other friendships as well. Can't you two just sit down and talk it out? I've heard about how sorry you both are, but I'm not the one who needs to hear it." Fairly certain she'd said all she needed to say, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and gave her friend a minute to digest. Hermione was staring at the floor and looked ashamed.

"I...you're right, Gin," she sighed, dragging her fingers through her wild hair. "It was my mistake that started this whole thing - I just didn't want to admit it, and I think that made it worse. I hate how I feel like I can't even be in the same room as him anymore without causing tension. I...I miss him, Gin. I really do."

"I know you do," Ginny said softly, moving to take a seat next to Hermione and wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulders. She gave her what she hoped was a comforting squeeze. "I would too, if I were in your shoes - he's one of your oldest friends. You've already vastly improved the situation by admitting that it was your fault - and I know how hard that was, Little Miss Stubborn," she joked. "Now, though, you need to make things right. You can talk it all out with me if you want a practice run, but you really need to go talk to Draco. He feels awful, Hermione, he really does. Unless I've suddenly lost all sense of these things, I think he misses you as much as you miss him."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione whispered. "I'm sorry for making you put up with all this rubbish, really - you're a saint for still wanting to be my friend."

"Everybody makes mistakes," Ginny replied, brushing Hermione's last comment off with a wave of her hand. "Just because you have one bout of stupidity doesn't mean I won't be your friend anymore." Hermione snorted lightly but smiled all the same.

"Regardless, thank you. It's high time I made things right again."

"Glad you've finally got your head back on straight," Ginny said, standing up and making to leave. "Just…be sure you actually act on your word this time, yeah? You know what happened the last time you said you were going to talk to him."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "I'm just a little worried. I've already forgiven him – well, what little there was to forgive, anyway; I know I have. I just hope he can forgive me in return, seeing as my offense is that much greater, now that I look at it. I feel like such a horrible person."

"You're not," Ginny reassured her. "I can think of very few individuals I'd class as 'horrible people', and you're certainly not one of them. You did, however, make a mistake, and now it's up to you to fix it." Neither girl said anything for a long moment as they mulled over what had just taken place. Finally, Ginny said, "I've kept you from your homework long enough – Merlin knows you've got enough work to keep you up late from here till the end of term. Just…think about what I said, and make some time to talk to Draco. I don't think you're in any danger of losing your 'top of the class' spot anytime soon, so you can afford to take a few hours away from the essays." She braced her hand on the doorknob and twisted, stepping out into the hall. "I'll see you at dinner – just remember that I'm only doing this coz I love you guys and want you to be happy." Hermione gave her a small smile in return.

"I know, Gin. I know. See you in a bit."

As soon as Ginny left the room, Hermione retrieved her charmed parchment, and before she could lose her courage, she scribbled a quick message to Draco:

_Hey – can we talk?_

She'd made it back down to the common room, where her things remained undisturbed on the corner table, before she received a reply:

_Via parchment, or face to face?_

_In person,_ she wrote.

_How about Sunday? I have a feeling I know what you want to talk about, and I want to be able to do this properly._

Hermione knew that Sunday was one of the soonest times they'd both be free – Saturday was the Quidditch final, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and both captains were working their teams hard at every opportunity. She didn't necessarily know how it was for Draco, but she'd seen Harry, looking thoroughly knackered, troop into the common room very late indeed almost every night this last week. The day would be taken up by the match from eleven in the morning until whenever it finished (and as the longest Quidditch match on record stretched for nearly three months, who knew when that would be), and the victorious house, to which one of them would belong, would celebrate long into the night.

_Yeah – Sunday works fine. Thank you, Dragon._

_Of course, Lotte. Time for dinner, but I'll see you soon._

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding when she read Draco's final note. His messages had been a little short, but seeing the nickname gave her hope that her actions, while far from being right, hadn't irreparably damaged their relationship.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, and the Great Hall was abuzz with chatter as the students filled their plates and conversed excitedly about the upcoming match. Nobody could quite remember the last time the two rivals had met in the Quidditch final – the last time Gryffindor had won the cup, they'd beaten Ravenclaw – and as such, it promised to be an event to remember.

"I can't believe we're in the finals!" Harry exclaimed as he spread jam on his toast. He was nervous, sure, but it was definitely an excited sort of nervous. A few places down, Alicia, Katie, and Angelina were discussing strategy, and Fred and George were being even more exuberant than usual. Wood was muttering under his breath as he examined a series of elaborate diagrams, his plate untouched.

"Oliver, you need to eat something," Katie chastised him. "Your diagrams won't do us any good if you faint in the middle of the match." She shoved a platter of eggs his way and pointedly filled his goblet with pumpkin juice. When Wood didn't react, she reached over and tugged the charts out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"Eat," she said sternly, giving him her best no-nonsense look. Wood made to protest, but when he caught sight of Katie's face, he quickly shut his mouth and turned his attention to the food. Katie's glare morphed into a smirk, and she resumed eating her own breakfast. Harry, who had witnessed the whole exchange, chuckled to himself. If anyone could keep Wood in line, it was Katie – strict as their Keeper and captain was, Harry suspected he'd always had a soft spot for the blonde girl.

"I'm gonna head out early," Harry said then, carefully wrapping his toast in a napkin before rising from the Gryffindor bench. "Need to fly off some of this extra energy – I feel like I have _too_ much, if you know what I mean."

"We get it, Harry," Hermione said with a smile. "Now, get going – we'll see you out there." She stood up and gave him a long hug.

"Good luck!" Ginny said as she hugged him too. "I feel like a party tonight, so make sure it happens!" Harry laughed.

"I'll do my best," he said. "See you in a bit!"

It wasn't long before Wood muttered, "I'm off" and followed in Harry's wake. Katie seemed to think he'd eaten enough and didn't try to stop him, knowing that he needed to blow off some steam before the match as well – the rest of the team would be back, but this was Wood's last shot at winning it all. He was great at masking it, but there was no doubt that he was more nervous than the other six put together.

Not five minutes later, the doors to the Great Hall flew open with a colossal _bang_, causing nearly everyone still eating to jump in surprise. The Gryffindors were shocked to see Wood running towards them, looking panicked and tripping over several students' feet in his haste to reach them.

"Granger – shit, sorry mate – Hermione! Dammit, Hermione, where are you?"

"Oliver, what's going on?" Angelina asked.

"I need Hermione Granger," Wood panted, leaning on the table heavily.

"I'm right here," Hermione said, looking thoroughly confused. She was pretty sure she'd barely spoken two words to the Gryffindor captain before now – what could he possibly want with her?

"I need to talk to you, in private," he managed. "Can you bring the rest of your breakfast along?"

"I'm finished anyway," she replied, her expression still perplexed and more than a little wary. She followed him from the hall, the eyes of nearly every student at Hogwarts watching them go. Once they'd reached the entrance hall, he stopped and faced her.

"Do you have a broom?"

"I…what?" That was probably the last thing she'd been expecting.

"We have a problem, Hermione," Wood said. He began to pace, running a hand through his sandy hair as he did so. Hermione could tell he was having a hard time voicing his thoughts.

"Just spit it out," she encouraged.

"There's been an accident," Wood blurted out. "Down at the Quidditch pitch. I don't really know what happened, but Harry…" His thick Scottish brogue was even more pronounced in his upset state. Hermione paled.

"Harry?" she asked, her heart in her throat.

"Harry's unconscious in the hospital wing," Wood finally managed. "One of Slytherin's Chasers, too – the dark-haired fifth-year. Nobody seems to know what happened, but one thing's for sure – they won't be waking up in time for the match."

"Oh, God," Hermione murmured, her shaking legs threatening to give way. "I…oh, no, I hope they'll be all right! But…what does this have to do with me? And why did you ask if I have a broom?" She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"We're still playing the match," Wood said quietly. "I'm not sure why, since your petrification last year was enough to cancel Quidditch, and this is another attack on students, but we are. Maybe they decided postponing such a high-profile match between rivals was even worse, I dunno. But we don't have a Seeker. Slytherin has back-up Chasers, so they're fine, but Harry doesn't have a reserve." He paused and swallowed heavily, then fixed her straight in the eye. "You were second best at the first-years' trials, Hermione – I know that was two years ago, but I still remember that you were more than decent, and I don't have any other options. It's not like I can hold a trial here and now, the match is in less than an hour. Can you help us? Will you play for us today?"

For a long moment, Hermione just stared at Wood, her eyes wide. Was he really asking her to play Seeker for Gryffindor – in the _finals_, no less? A comment she'd made to Harry over the summer came to mind, and she nearly laughed at the irony:

_"Considering my inability to fly one-handed for any length of time, the only position I could feasibly play would be Seeker, and there's no way I'm getting that job anytime soon."_

Well, it looked like she was, actually, and 'anytime soon' was 'now'…could she really do this? She'd never played on a team before, and this game counted for so much…

A mental image of Harry, his messy black hair hanging in his eyes as usual, interrupted her thoughts. _"Oh, Harry,"_ Hermione thought. _"What sort of trouble did you get yourself into this time? I really hope you're ok…"_ In that instant, Hermione knew what her answer would be – this match meant so much to Harry, and she couldn't let him down.

"Alright," she said, letting out a long whoosh of air. "I'll do it." Wood immediately surged forward and enveloped her in a bear hug.

"Thank you, thank you so much," he breathed as he released her. He glanced at his watch and swore. "We don't have much time – did you say you had a broom?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, still partially in shock that she'd agreed to this. "It's upstairs in my trunk."

"Think you can get it and meet me at the pitch in fifteen minutes' time?" Wood asked. "We need to make sure we can get you suited up and all that…"

"Don't worry, I'll be there," Hermione reassured him. Wood hugged her again before darting across the entrance hall, out the front door, and out of sight.

"Holy Merlin," Hermione muttered. "What have I gotten myself into?" Knowing there wasn't a moment to waste, she turned in the opposite direction Wood had gone and raced up the marble staircase towards Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

**A/N: Been planning on that moment for a while now...and I lied, I'm sorry - obviously the Quidditch final itself didn't happen in this chapter, so it'll be in the next one.**

**Thanks for the follows/faves/reviews, and for reading. I really hope everyone's enjoying this so far - please leave a review to let me know what you think?**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! Happy Friday! :)**


	16. Victory

Hermione threw open the door to the third-year girls' dormitory so forcefully that it crashed into the wall and rebounded. Eloise, who'd been sitting at her desk writing a letter, shrieked and narrowly missed knocking over her inkwell.

"Goodness, Hermione, you scared me!" she gasped, steadying the bottle and staring at her roommate with wide eyes.

"Sorry, Eloise," Hermione apologized, rushing to her trunk and hastily opening it. "I didn't realize anyone was still up here. Are you not going to the match?" She dug through the contents and finally extracted the broom she'd received for Christmas.

"No, I am," Eloise said. "Just wanted to finish up a letter to my brother first, then I'll be down. But…why on earth are you holding a broom?" Hermione sighed heavily and sank onto her bed for a moment.

"Long story short, Harry's unconscious in the hospital wing, and nobody knows why," she said grimly. "They're still playing the match, but Gryffindor doesn't have a reserve Seeker. Oliver Wood – he's the captain – said he remembered me being second best when we had those unexpected trials in first year, and he asked if I could play today."

"Whoa," Eloise said softly. "Are you sure you're gonna be ok to do that? I mean, Harry's one of your best friends…"

"He is. And truth be told, I'm terrified – terrified for him, since nobody seems to know what happened or why he's still knocked out, and terrified because I've never played in a real Quidditch game before, and this is the _final._ So many people are counting on this match, Eloise…"

"I'm sure you'll be great," Eloise reassured her, getting up from her desk chair and crossing the room to squeeze Hermione's shoulders in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "You're a natural at nearly everything else, and if Wood thinks you're good enough to play for him, you must be at least a halfway decent flyer – he doesn't let just anyone onto the team, you know."

"Didn't realize you paid all that much attention to the team," Hermione mused.

"Oh, no, I really like Quidditch," Eloise said quickly. "Don't think I could ever play on the actual team, mind you, but I love watching it, and flying is so much fun. I wish I could do it more often."

"Why can't you?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"My mum's a Muggle," Eloise replied. "Can't fly in Muggle neighborhoods, can you?" Though she tried to hide it, her expression was still a bit disappointed, and Hermione made a snap decision.

"You can if you know how to hide it," she said quickly. "Come visit us over the summer, and you can play with us."

"I…what?" Eloise looked nonplussed.

"I live right next door to Harry and Draco," Hermione said. "Their backyard is charmed so that we can play Quidditch without our neighbors seeing a thing. They definitely have extra brooms lying around, so even if you don't have one, it's not a problem. It's nothing organized, really, but it's still more fun when you've got people to play with."

"I…wow," Eloise finally said. "Thanks, Hermione. I'd like that – I'd like that a lot." Hermione smiled in response.

"Then I'll expect to see you over the holidays. In the meantime, I've got to get down to the pitch – eek. You'll be down soon, yeah?"

"Of course – I was coming anyway, but now that I know one of my friends is playing, how could I miss it?" Eloise smiled widely and moved to turn back to her letter. "Good luck, Hermione!"

"Thanks – see you soon!"

* * *

Hermione was a little winded by the time she reached the pitch, having essentially run all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and back in a very short space of time. The rest of the team was already there, and nobody looked surprised to see her – Wood must've told them everything in the interim.

"Let's see if we can get these to fit," Wood said, holding out what Hermione realized must be Harry's Quidditch uniform. Luckily, Harry wasn't all that much bigger than she was yet, so it took very little charm work to make the robes look like they'd been hers all along. As she studied herself in the mirror, the enormity of what she was doing sank in, and Hermione felt waves of nerves racing up and down her spine. Had she gone absolutely _mental?_

"Ok, team," Wood said as he began to pace the length of the locker room. "This is it – our last shot – _my_ last shot – at the Cup. I…" He faltered suddenly and seemed unable to speak.

"Dammit," he muttered. "Sorry, I just…"

"Oliver, it's ok," Katie said soothingly, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

"We know we're the best, and it's about damn time everybody else knew it," George added, knocking his Beater's bat against his twin's in a strange variation of a high-five.

"You know it!" Fred agreed. "Let's show Hogwarts what we can do!" Alicia and Angelina whooped in agreement, and Hermione managed a weak smile, coming forward to join the chant.

"Lions on three," Wood commanded as they stuck their hands in. "One, two, three…"

"LIONS!" they yelled. They picked up their brooms and followed Wood out of the locker room, Hermione trying to ignore the trembling in her limbs. The noise of the crowd was noticeable even from the tunnels, and they could hear Lee Jordan's magically magnified voice getting the spectators excited for what was sure to be a match for the history books.

"Aaaaaand here come the Gryffindors!" Lee shouted as the septet of scarlet-robed players marched onto the field. "Granger on for Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Let's hear it for the Lions!" A huge chunk of the crowd roared their approval as they waved their pro-Gryffindor banners, several of which were enchanted to roar every time they moved. The result was almost deafening.

"And now for the Slytherin squad – Higgs, Black, Flint, Montague on for Warrington, Bole, Derrick, and Bletchley!" The Slytherin supporters made themselves known with raucous cheers and banners of their own, though none of theirs had sound effects. Hermione caught sight of Ginny in the crowd before locking eyes with Draco across the players' circle. Neither of them looked surprised to see her there, so she assumed that either Wood or McGonagall must've filled them in on what had happened.

"The focal points of this match, folks, are the two substitutes being fielded today," Lee informed the crowd as the players made their final preparations. "Hermione Granger is playing Seeker for Gryffindor in lieu of Harry Potter, and Graham Montague has replaced Cassius Warrington as Slytherin's third Chaser. The reason behind the double switch is as of yet unknown, but I'm sure the captains have a good reason for it, and I, for one, am interested to see how the changes affect today's match."

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch said. Flint and Wood did so, looking more as if they were attempting to break each others' fingers.

"Mount your brooms!" Hermione swung her leg over the handle of her Thunderbolt, the death grip she had on the wood turning her knuckles white.

"Three…two…one…" Madam Hooch's silver whistle pierced through even the noise of the crowd, and the game began. Hermione immediately shot skywards away from the rest of the players, though not nearly as high as Harry preferred, and began circling the field, scanning for the Snitch.

"It's not so bad," she muttered to herself as Angelina snagged the Quaffle. "You can do this, Hermione…"

"And it's Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor racing up the pitch, passes to Alicia Spinnet, back to Johnson, back to – no, intercepted by Montague, Montague to Black, Black going to goal, Black to Flint, Flint to – SAVED by Wood!"

The Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers as Wood tossed the Quaffle back to Alicia. Hermione punched the air in celebration before hastily reattaching both hands to her broom.

"Johnson…Spinnet…John – argh, no, Bludgers doing their job here – Black…Flint…Montague…Black…_another _interception, nice one, Katie! Bell, Johnson, Bell, Katie Bell going for goal, come on, Katie! She shoots…and SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Katie grinned triumphantly as her team's supporters roared their approval.

A few minutes later, Draco managed to sneak the Quaffle past Wood, evening the score. From there, things got dirty. Flint grabbed Alicia and tried to say he thought she was the Quaffle. In retaliation, one of the Weasley twins hit Flint in the back of the head with his bat. Madam Hooch yelled herself hoarse before awarding both teams a penalty shot, both of which missed. The Chaser trios upped their game, the Quaffle a red blur as it flew between them, and the Bludgers nearly unseated players a number of times as the Beaters went to work.

"Flint…Black…Johnson…Black…Spinnet…dodges a Bludger, come on! Nope, it's Black again, Black to Montague, manages to fake them out…Slytherin scores…"

The back-and-forth went on for what seemed like days, but judging by the position of the sun, Hermione guessed it hadn't been more than two hours. Still, she wished the Snitch would make an appearance soon – she'd never been on a broom for so long before, and the thought of having to actually attempt to _catch_ the Snitch had been making her queasy since the starting whistle. A Bludger shot her way and she ducked, her ponytail whipping around her face as the black ball narrowly missed its target.

"All right there, Hermione?" Fred asked as he chased down his quarry.

"Yeah, I think so!" she managed to call back, her hands shaking. Fred smacked the Bludger towards Montague, who dropped the Quaffle straight into Katie's hands. She tossed it to Angelina, who chucked it through an undefended goal hoop.

"And it's eighty-sixty Gryffindor!" Lee shouted. "And it's Flint in possession…"

After another hour, Hermione was beginning to wonder if the Snitch was ever going to show up – if she hadn't known about the charms preventing such a thing, she'd have wagered that the little ball had up and left the stadium entirely. The score was climbing steadily higher – it was now 160-130 in favor of Slytherin – and the game's furious pace hadn't let up one bit. Wood had called a quick time-out roughly half an hour ago just to give them a breather, but he'd praised their performance thus far and told them to keep at it, so they had. They suspected Flint had said the same to his team, as the Slytherins were as relentless as ever.

Hermione paused to wipe sweat off her brow as Draco scored again, the Slytherins cheering hard. It seemed that Quidditch overrode personal feelings, as they were clearly supporting Draco just as much as the rest of the team. The sun flashed across Draco's white-blond hair, the effect almost blinding, but it was a second flash that caught Hermione's attention. Something was shimmering in the air near the base of the stands – could it be…? Knowing she couldn't take any chances, Hermione leaned forward and rocketed towards the ground.

"I don't believe it – I think we've finally spotted the Snitch!" Lee shouted into his megaphone. All eyes were suddenly on Hermione, who was still racing downward, and Terrence Higgs, who was clear across the pitch but looked determined all the same.

"Come on," Hermione muttered as the ground came ever closer. "Just a little further…"

The impact was sharp and painful.

Hermione had been so focused on her goal that she'd failed to see the Bludger zipping in her direction and hadn't been able to get out of the way in time. The ball collided with her arm, which broke with a sickening _crack._ Hermione was horrified to realize that she now only had one good arm to work with, which meant that she'd have to let go of her broom completely to catch the Snitch.

"Oh no…oh no…oh no…" The ground seemed even more menacing, her broom speeding downwards seemingly of its own accord, and suddenly she had no choice. The Snitch was so close – all she had to do was reach out and touch it…

"I can't do it!" Hermione whimpered to herself, though the pain certainly contributed to the pitiful sound. She gripped the broom tightly as she continued to follow the Snitch.

_"Come on, Hermione,"_ a voice said inside her head, and she was startled to realize that it was Harry's. _"You only have to let go for a second."_ She squeezed her eyes shut for a split second, steeled her nerves, and let go, frantically scrabbling about in the air as she did so. Finally, she was rewarded with the soft flutter of wings against her fingertips, and Hermione just had time to register the little golden ball now safely ensconced in her palm before she reached the ground and slumped to the grass in a dead faint.

* * *

"Hermione – _Hermione!"_

Hermione blinked and sat up slowly, her head feeling very fuzzy indeed.

"Wha- what happened?" she muttered, her eyes struggling to focus as Ginny slowly came into view. Ginny grinned broadly.

"We won – you did it, Hermione! You caught the Snitch!" Hermione glanced down and saw that the Snitch was still in her hand, visible proof that she'd just won her first Quidditch match. Hang on…she'd just _won her first Quidditch match!_ Her face broke into a grin to rival Ginny's before morphing into a grimace of pain.

"Oh, Merlin!" Ginny cried, "I almost forgot! We need to get you to the hospital wing!" Hermione only then began to register the presence of several other people, their scarlet robes marking them as the rest of the Gryffindor team.

_"Brilliant _catch, Hermione!" George called as he and Fred gently helped her to her feet.

"We won! We won!" Angelina, Alicia, and Katie shouted, all decorum forgotten as they did a sort of victory dance. Next to them, Wood was sobbing unabashedly, his face stained with tears and mud. Professor Dumbledore stood just behind the Gryffindor captain, the gigantic silver Quidditch Cup in his hands.

"Come on, Hermione," Fred said. "We'll get you to Madam Pomfrey in a minute, but you've got to be here for this." He grinned and gestured towards the Cup.

"Congratulations to Gryffindor, this year's Quidditch champions!" Dumbledore called. The stadium shook as the fans cheered, shouted, and stomped, their banners roaring and shimmering in what was now afternoon sunlight. Wood, who was still shaking heavily, grasped one handle of the Cup and gestured for Hermione to take the other, and the two of them lifted the silver trophy as high as they could before passing it around to the rest of the team.

"Lotte!"

Hermione whirled around as a familiar person pushed his way through the crowd and threw his arms around her, careful to avoid her injury.

"Oh my god," Draco murmured as he hugged her tightly. "You scared me so much – I saw that Bludger hit you, and…"

"Dragon, it's ok," Hermione said softly. "I just need to see Madam Pomfrey, that's all." He pulled back to look at her.

"You're sure?" he asked. "I've already got my brother in the hospital wing…"

"I'm going there too," she pointed out, raising her eyebrows a bit.

"You know what I mean," he said exasperatedly.

"I know." Hermione pulled him into another hug, taking a moment to ignore the pain and revel in the feeling of having Draco with her again. "I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you too," Draco replied. "And I'm so sorry." Hermione looked at him and shook her head.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," she said firmly. "It's my fault this whole thing started in the first place – if I'd just told you the truth from the start, we wouldn't have spent this whole year fighting."

"We're both a little at fault," Draco said, sounding a little sad. He didn't have to voice why – Hermione understood perfectly.

"I think we owe Ginny a huge thank you," she said.

"Indeed we do," Draco agreed. "Now, let's get you to the hospital wing before you faint again – the sooner you get your arm fixed, the better."

* * *

**A/N: And there we have it - the Quidditch final. Huzzah!**

**Thanks much to everyone who's followed/faved/reviewed this story, and to everyone reading in general. You guys are the best.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	17. The Seer Speaks

The euphoria from winning the Quidditch Cup lasted the Gryffindors several days, but eventually, their joy faded and apprehension took its place. The Quidditch season was over, which could only mean one thing: exams were right around the corner. Percy Weasley, who had made quite clear his views on his housemates' 'childish and excessive' celebrations, became increasingly more unbearable as June approached, and even Fred and George were frequently seen studying as they finished preparing for their O.W.L.s.

Harry and Warrington had both left the hospital wing the day after the Quidditch final, completely cured. Aside from the several hours they spent unconscious, neither boy seemed to have suffered any sort of injuries at all, and the most troublesome aspect of the whole situation was how nobody, the victims included, seemed to know what had happened to land them in the infirmary in the first place. Harry, however, was more preoccupied with the match itself.

"I can't _believe_ I missed it!" he groaned for the hundredth time. "The one time Maya gets to play Quidditch, and I'm not there to see it? Now that's just not fair."

Draco chuckled as he glanced up from his Transfiguration homework. They'd started studying in the Room of Requirement again after the match and were currently sprawled out all over the room in various states of disarray. Hermione had disappeared behind a pile of books on the coffee table, and Ginny was muttering spells under her breath as she checked her work against her notes. Blaise and Tracey were bent over their most recent History of Magic assignment, and Neville was revising for Herbology, occasionally nodding to himself as he made notes on a spare bit of parchment. It made for an interesting sight, but Draco wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Why don't you just have Gin show you the match in a Pensieve?" he suggested as he scratched something out with his quill and made the necessary correction. Ginny looked up from her book and rolled her eyes.

"Already did that," she said. "Harry's been going on about it nonstop ever since."

"But it was the match of a lifetime, and I missed it!" Harry protested.

"Don't whine, Harry, it's unbecoming," Ginny said bluntly, tossing him a wink. "We'll just have to have a big game over the summer to make up for it, especially now that we know we have two Seekers."

"Don't go plotting my demise behind my back, Gin," Hermione's voice came from behind the books. She shifted a few of them aside to shoot her best glare towards the redhead, who merely giggled in response.

"'Plotting your demise', Hermione? Surely I'm not _that_ cruel?" Ginny asked.

"You're attempting to pit me against Harry. Do I really need to answer that question?" Hermione's reply elicited a fresh wave of laughter from everyone who was even partially listening to the conversation, and the friends reveled in the stolen moment of fun.

"Hey, Harry, how are your Patronus lessons coming along?" Neville asked once they'd all caught their breath. Harry stopped sulking and perked up at the mention of his special studies.

"Not bad, actually," he said, his face excited. "I still can't produce more than a vague mist, but Lupin says I should be proud of myself for managing even that – Patronuses are beyond even N.E.W.T. level stuff."

"Wow," Tracey breathed, looking slightly awestruck. "What makes them so difficult?"

"Well, it's not just the incantation," Harry said. "You have to focus on a single happy memory to make it work, the stronger the better."

"Show us?" Ginny asked. Harry shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" He stood up and pulled out his wand. He shut his eyes for a moment as if in thought, then said, _"Expecto Patronum." _A vapory silver mist spilled forth from his wand, swirling in on itself a few times before fading away.

"That was beautiful," Hermione said softly. Her gaze remained fixed on the spot where the mist had been just moments before, as if she were trying to embed the image in her memory.

"Thanks," Harry said, his cheeks flushing a little. "Although it's a lot harder when there's a dementor around – you know, since they're doing their best to suck all the happiness out of you."

"What does a real Patronus look like?" Tracey asked curiously, clearly fascinated by the subject.

"Er…an animal, I suppose," Harry replied. "Or at least, the ones I've seen are animals. Dumbledore's is a phoenix, and my mum's is a doe. She said my dad's was a stag. Lupin said the form your Patronus takes generally says something about you as a person – reflects your personality, I guess you'd say."

"Very cool," Blaise said approvingly. "If you ever do pull that one off, let us know – although I can't deny I'll be jealous." The others agreed, and after a few more minutes of idle chatter, they begrudgingly returned to their books.

* * *

Harry and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, bouncing questions off one another for their upcoming History of Magic exam, one of the few they had left. It was scheduled for Friday morning and would end a truly exhausting week – Harry had thought for sure that he wouldn't be able to pass Potions with Snape breathing down their necks as they brewed, and Hermione had faltered in their Defense test, which was an unusual sort of obstacle course featuring all the creatures they'd studied that year. The final part of the course involved climbing into a large wardrobe to battle with a boggart. Given what had happened with the boggart at the beginning of term, Harry was more than worried for his friend, but Hermione made it through. She'd been shaking and pale when she'd emerged from the wardrobe, but it was nothing compared to the wreck she'd been after facing the creature in September, and Harry was optimistic at the change. Obviously, Hermione's boggart still bothered her, but the fact that she came out of the encounter in much better shape suggested that she wasn't quite so scared or insecure as she once was.

"What can you tell me about Wendelin the Weird?" Harry asked as he struggled to decipher his notes.

"She was a key figure in the witch burnings of the fourteenth century," Hermione began. "She-"

Whatever else Hermione had meant to say about Wendelin the Weird evaporated as Ron approached, looking upset.

"What's up?" Harry asked, concern evident on his face.

"I thought you should see this," Ron replied, passing over a piece of parchment. It turned out to be a letter, the ink so smudged that they could barely read it:

_Ron,_

_Execution date is fixed for this Friday at sundown. Don't come down, I don't want you to see it. Just wanted to say thanks for all the help you gave us with the case – Beaky appreciates it._

_Hagrid_

"No," Hermione murmured, her eyes watering rapidly. "Oh, they can't, they just _can't!"_

"So they're basically just ignoring the appeal, then?" Harry asked, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Seems like it, doesn't it?" Ron replied glumly. "All that work for nothing. Poor Hagrid – Buckbeak doesn't deserve to die, and Hagrid doesn't deserve this. Sure, I think he's mental for showing us hippogriffs right off the bat instead of easing us in, but it's not like he didn't tell us exactly what to do. His heart's in the right place, isn't it?" Harry and Hermione both nodded.

"Speaking of all that work," Harry said slowly after a lengthy silence, "why'd you do it, Ron?"

"Huh?" The redhead looked confused.

"I mean…don't take this the wrong way or anything, but you're not exactly inclined to do even your own homework without some sort of outside prodding, never mind anything extra." Ron blushed.

"I still feel bad," he said, staring at his shoes. "About last year, I mean. I…well, we weren't the best of mates or anything, but you guys were nice to me our first year – even after I insulted Hermione and got us into that mess with the troll, you still offered me a place in your friend group, invited me to your special room, included me in your adventures with the stone and the trapdoor…and then there was Easter and Ginny's birthday at the Burrow…like I said, we weren't best mates, but we still had a fair bit of fun. And then I had to go and muck it all up with the diary – I should've just told someone about it from the start, then nobody would've gotten hurt, but I didn't. I still feel guilty about all that, especially when I think how lucky I am that no one died." He shuddered. "I just…I dunno, needed to make it up to you somehow, and this seemed like the best way to do it. Hagrid's a good bloke, so I thought that maybe if I helped you with his case…"

"Ron, you don't have to say anymore," Hermione said quietly. "I won't lie – I was really hurt and upset that you let everything go on like it did last year without telling anybody. But at the same time, there was a lot of Dark magic in that diary, and I like to think you would've acted a little differently if given the chance. I did miss your company, and I _was_ really grateful for the help with the case, however surprising it was." She stepped forward and gave him a friendly squeeze.

"Maya said it all, as usual," Harry joked. "Seriously, Ron, you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened – yeah, it happened, but we've moved on, and you'll be that much stronger – and happier – if you do too. Besides, even if we aren't best mates, you're still my friend, and I think we're long overdue for a chess match." Ron laughed.

"If you insist on being suicidal, I guess," he quipped. Harry playfully punched his arm in reply. "And I…well, thanks, you two. I know you might not think so, but it does mean a lot, hearing you say those things. Back to the real problem, though, what are we gonna do about Buckbeak?"

"We're going to go, of course," Harry replied firmly. "I know Hagrid told us not to, but we have to – he'll need the support. At this time of year, sunset is long before curfew, so we won't be questioned if we head outside after dinner."

* * *

Lunchtime on Friday found the third-years collapsing into seats at their house tables, expressions of relief on their faces. Their exams were finally over, and they now had nearly a week to relax and enjoy the unusually lovely weather before the Hogwarts Express took them all back to London.

"That wasn't as bad as it could've been," Hermione said as she helped herself to a sandwich.

"Speak for yourself," Ron grumbled. "I definitely mixed up some dates, and I can never keep all those goblin wars straight!"

"At least I'm done with Divination," Hermione said, her expression pleased. "You have no idea how tempted I was just to walk out in the middle of class almost every time…"

"I'm surprised you made it through the year, to be honest," Harry commented. "It was pretty obvious that you found it pointless."

"Well, I certainly didn't learn anything that would help us with the prophecy," Hermione huffed. Harry's ears perked up at her words.

"I just remembered something," he said suddenly. "So you know how for that exam, Trelawney made us come up individually?"  
"And make up what we 'saw' in our crystal ball?" Ron said sardonically. The three friends chuckled lightly, especially when it went without saying that Ron most certainly had made up whatever answer he'd given.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Well, I didn't see much, so I sort of just muddled my way through it, but as I was getting ready to leave, Professor Trelawney…well, she went into a sort of…trance."

"A trance?" Hermione questioned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, her eyes were all unfocused, and she was speaking in this really weird voice. It was all deep and hoarse, not like hers at all. And when she finished and came to, she couldn't remember anything, even when I asked her about it."

"What did she say?"

"She said…er, hang on, I wrote it down…" Harry fished around in his bag until he found what he was looking for, then slid the piece of parchment towards Ron and Hermione:

_As the fifth day dies, innocence will be lost, traitors will surface, and secrets will be told. Darkness will fall and evil will rise should the servant rejoin the master. Yet hope is not lost – though time is short, if the sun sets once more, the impossible can be undone._

"Cheery sort of woman, isn't she?" Ron muttered. "What the bloody hell does that even mean, anyway?"

"No idea," Harry replied, "but it doesn't sound good. And if what Dumbledore's told us is anything to go by, I'd say that Professor Trelawney might've actually made a real prediction…"

That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way out of the Great Hall after dinner, steeling themselves for what they were about to do. Hagrid would protest, of course, but after all that had happened, there was no way they weren't going to be there for him tonight. Hermione had wanted to suggest that Draco come too, since she knew he felt just as badly about the whole situation, but he was nowhere to be seen at dinner, nor did he reply when she messaged him via charmed parchment. She was slightly worried at his lack of response but didn't have time to dwell on it – sunset was creeping up on them. Finally, their long trek across the grounds ended, and they found themselves facing Hagrid's hut. Harry glanced sideways at his two friends.

"Well, here goes nothing," he said, and he reached up and rapped smartly on Hagrid's front door.

* * *

**A/N: We're getting close to the end of part 3 - just a few more chapters left! Might have a second one for you today, if all goes well.**

**A quick note about Ron: just in case anybody still doubts it, Ron really is just trying to make amends. No ulterior motives, I promise! Although he definitely has his fair share of moments in canon, I think, for the most part, his heart is in the right place, and even if he's not best friends with Harry and Hermione in my version, I didn't want to go the 'Ron-is-a-horrible-person' route.**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews for the last chapter! Thank you, as well, for following/favoriting/just plain reading my story - I really do hope you're all enjoying reading is as much as I am writing it.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	18. The Culprit Unmasked

"Why am I not surprised ter see you three?" Hagrid grumbled once he'd opened the door and determined the identity of his visitors. "Yeh shouldn' be here…"

"Hagrid, we weren't going to leave you alone tonight," Harry said firmly. "If you want, we'll even give our testimonies to the Ministry officials…"

"No," Hagrid said gruffly. "I 'preciate the support an' all, but yeh won' be stickin' around fer the actual thing. Tha's…tha's not somethin' yeh need ter see." He paused, sniffed, and blew his nose into a handkerchief so large that it could've easily served as a tablecloth.

"Perhaps I should make some tea?" Hermione suggested. She set the kettle up and quickly began rooting through Hagrid's cupboards for the necessities. If nothing else, the hot, familiar liquid might calm Hagrid's frazzled nerves somewhat.

"Where's Buckbeak, Hagrid?" Ron asked.

"He's out in me garden," Hagrid replied. "I hate ter keep him tied up, but if he's not them Ministry wizards'll have sommat ter say about it." He sniffed again, stray tears leaking from his black eyes.

"You gave him all he could've wanted, Hagrid," Hermione said soothingly as she set the tea tray on the table and began filling their cups. "I'm sure he's grateful for that, at least." Once she'd served everyone, she set the kettle down and reached for the milk jug. Suddenly, she gave a shriek as something large fell out of the jug. At first, no one could tell what it was, but then Ron gasped in shock.

_"Scabbers?"_ he asked incredulously. All three of them stared at the wet object in disbelief, and it only took a few seconds for them to realize that Ron was right – it was indeed his rat.

"Oh my god," Hermione murmured. "He's been hiding here all this time?"

"And we all thought he was dead," Harry added. Ron, who had yet to tear his gaze from Scabbers, slowly reached towards the rat.

"Ouch!" he cried, swiftly pulling his hand back. "He bit me!" There wasn't time to speculate why, however, as Scabbers shot off the table and began racing around Hagrid's hut, doing his best to avoid them.

"Scabbers, what the hell?" Ron demanded. "It's me, you moron!"

It took them a good ten minutes to catch Scabbers, during which time they all found themselves on the receiving end of the rat's claws and teeth.

"What's the matter with you, you stupid rat?" Ron muttered as he forced Scabbers into his pocket. Just as he finally succeeded, there was a knock on the door.

"Tha's your cue ter leave," Hagrid said, his voice wavering. Hermione blinked back tears as she gave Hagrid the biggest hug she could manage.

"I'm so sorry, Hagrid," she whispered. Hagrid smiled softly and brushed away a few of her stray tears with one of his enormous fingers.

"Yeh've nothin' ter be sorry for, Hermione," he said. "Yeh've all helped me so much, and I'd be daft ter not be grateful fer that." With one last sad look, he opened the door and ushered them out. On the doorstep, they met Dumbledore, who was accompanied by a wizened old official and a younger man with a dark expression and a wicked looking blade at his hip.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said, doing his best to remember his manners in spite of the sad situation. "We were just…er…"

"It's perfectly alright, Harry," Dumbledore reassured him. "I'm sure your kindness didn't go unnoticed." The headmaster nodded slightly towards Hagrid. "However, I do believe you should be heading back up to the castle now – I'm afraid the rest of this evening's events will be rather unpleasant." The Gryffindors nodded and turned to make their way back towards the castle, their expressions solemn.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with this stupid rat?" Ron burst out. They'd only made it twenty yards or so from Hagrid's hut and could hear the Ministry official reading out Buckbeak's sentence.

"Ron, can we please keep moving?" Hermione pleaded. "I really don't want to be anywhere near here when…"

"I'm trying, Hermione, I'm trying!" Ron said desperately. "He keeps fighting me…ouch! Dammit, Scabbers! Scabbers? _Scabbers!"_ The rat had managed to break free once more and was sprinting across the lawn. Ron immediately gave chase, leaving Harry and Hermione no choice but to follow him. A streak of orange came darting in from their right, and Hermione groaned.

"Crookshanks, go away!" she moaned. "You're not helping…" The cat ignored his mistress's plea and shot after the rat, neck and neck with Ron, whose long legs were lengthening the gap between him and his friends with every stride.

A sudden _thump_ and a loud yell made Hermione stumble and cry out.

"Oh my god," she muttered, fresh tears spilling over. "They did it, Harry!" Harry didn't have to ask her what she meant, as seconds later, a dreadful sounding cry came from the direction of Hagrid's hut.

"I'm sorry, Buckbeak," he said quietly. He reached down and helped Hermione to her feet, squeezing her shoulders comfortingly as he did so. Harry then realized they'd lost track of Ron and glanced around frantically, only just catching a glimpse of the trademark Weasley hair a good distance away.

"It looks like he's heading towards…" Harry paused; he'd meant to say 'that tree', but when he saw just what tree it was, he groaned.

"Scabbers, I hate you," he muttered. He'd sketched the Whomping Willow once during Herbology class last year, but he had no desire to get any closer than that if he could help it. The two friends increased their speed. Ron seemed to be dodging the tree's vicious branches until quite suddenly, he vanished completely.

"Where did he go?" Hermione gasped. They'd reached the tree and were standing just out of reach of the branches, which were whipping violently around as they always did.

"It's like he just melted right into the tree," Harry said.

"But that doesn't help us!" Hermione cried. She wrung her hands and began to pace. Quite suddenly, however, the tree froze. Harry and Hermione turned in shock to see Crookshanks pressing his front paws against a knot at the base of the tree.

"How did you know that was there, Crooks?" Hermione whispered.

"Never mind that, there's a passage," Harry replied, pointing. They quickly hurried forward and followed Crookshanks into a low, narrow tunnel. Stooping slightly in order to fit through, they made their way along the tunnel.

"Where do you suppose we're going?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," Harry replied. "I reckon this is one of those secret passages out of Hogwarts, hold on…ah, no!"

"What's wrong?"

"I've lost the Marauder's Map!" Harry said.

_"What?"_ Hermione groaned.

"I don't believe it! I had it in my back pocket earlier; it must've fallen out. It wasn't activated or anything, but still…" Harry trailed off, obviously upset with the loss of one of the few items that connected him with his father.

"Maybe we can still get it back somehow," Hermione soothed. "For now, though, we've got to find Ron." Harry agreed, and they continued down the passage, finally emerging through a trapdoor into a very dusty, very empty room. Fresh footprints led them through the little house and up the stairs, where a door stood ajar at the end of the hall. They pushed it open and found Ron sitting on the edge of an old canopy bed, Scabbers on his lap. Crookshanks sat near the headboard, his yellow eyes fixed on Scabbers.

"Where the hell are we?" Ron asked, cutting straight to the chase. Harry took a good look around the room, taking in the thick layers of dust, the boarded-up windows, and what appeared to be a chewed table leg in the corner, and shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well, we can't be too far from Hogwarts, considering that we just walked here," Hermione pointed out. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I think we're in the Shrieking Shack. It's the only place that makes sense."

"Never mind that, why on earth did Scabbers bring us here?" Harry wanted to know. As if he understood the question, Scabbers leapt lightly off Ron's lap onto the floor, staring intently up at them all. From his place on the bed, Crookshanks growled softly.

Then, to their utter disbelief, Scabbers began to change. His fur gradually disappeared as his body rapidly lengthened and enlarged until the rat was gone entirely. In his place sat a rather short man, a large bald spot on his head and small, watery eyes set above a pointy nose. He smiled slowly at them, showing yellow teeth.

"Well, well, well," he said, his high, slightly squeaky voice matching the rat form perfectly. "Harry Potter…we meet again."

"Oh, dear Merlin," Hermione muttered, her eyes wide. She stared at the man with a mix of shock and horror on her face. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as he made the connection Hermione's exceptional mind already had.

"Wormtail," he said, unable to stop himself from partially growling the name. "You're Peter Pettigrew, aren't you?"

"Oh, such a smart little thing, aren't you?" Pettigrew mock praised. "Such a shame that I have to kill you, such a shame…or perhaps I won't. The Dark Lord would like it very much if I brought him Harry Potter, I think."

"As if I'm going to let you do that," Harry scoffed.

"And what makes you think you'll succeed?" Pettigrew replied. Before any of them could react, he snatched the wand out of Ron's hand, Disarmed the other two, and cast a spell that sent the redhead flying backwards into the far wall, where he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted.

"Be quiet, girl," Pettigrew snapped. "He's just knocked out – I suppose I do owe my dear master a kindness, after all." He chuckled quietly, the sound chilling in the already creepy setting. "I assume you'd like me to answer some questions, wouldn't you?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed one ankle over the other knee, looking as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry demanded. His brain was racing frantically, trying to come up with a way out of this mess, but he was drawing a blank – Pettigrew had three wands whilst they had none, and even if they did manage to get one back, Ron was unconscious, and Pettigrew had the Animagus advantage. Their odds didn't look good.

"Potter, I've been here for three years," Pettigrew replied sarcastically. "I think the better question is, what _haven't_ I been doing?"

"It was you, wasn't it?" Hermione said suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"It was you – you've been the culprit all this time, haven't you? We already knew you were the one who attacked the Fat Lady, but you also put Professor Quirrell and Madam Hooch under the Imperius curse during our first year, which ultimately led to the former's death, and I wouldn't be surprised if you were behind the fiasco with the diary as well," Hermione concluded.

"Clever girl, aren't you?" Pettigrew said, clapping slowly. "I did indeed cause all those things to happen – although it didn't work so well, did it, when that bumbling fool of a professor couldn't even find the guts to kill you like he was supposed to," he spat at Harry.

"Professor Quirrell was a good man," Hermione retorted hotly. "Do you feel no remorse for robbing him of his free will, for killing him?" Pettigrew snorted.

"Quirrell was useless, easily disposable," he said dismissively. "As for the diary – I lived with the Weasleys for over a decade. You can't imagine how easy it was to steal one of their wands and use the Imperius curse to command Arthur Weasley to give the diary to one of his many brats."

"Where did you get the diary?" Harry demanded.

"I stole it, of course," Pettigrew replied. "From Lucius Malfoy, back when they were still in favor with the Dark Lord – it's not my fault he hadn't bothered to find a better hiding place for it."

"And does your precious _Lord_ know that you were the one who stole it?" Harry spat. "Because I know for a fact that he's not too pleased it's been destroyed." Pettigrew paled slightly but quickly covered up the moment of weakness.

"I'm sure he doesn't," he said quickly. "After all, dear Lucius was the last known owner of the diary – not that it did him much good, considering his current state…" He trailed off slightly, looking thoughtful. "But yes, Potter, it was I who did all those things – I might not have succeeded, but the Dark Lord will appreciate the attempt. Now…why are we still talking? I do believe I've given you far too much information already…" He lifted Ron's wand, a hungry, dangerous look in his eyes.

"Your father was always too high and mighty for his own good, boy," he said softly. "I'm not sorry he's dead. As for your mother, I'm not sure if that's more or less of a travesty – after all, she is a Mudblood."

"Don't you dare!" Harry snapped, but Hermione stayed him with a gentle touch to his arm.

"Don't listen to him," she whispered. "Don't let him get to you."

"Yes, that's right, listen to your little girlfriend," Pettigrew simpered. "Isn't that sweet?" He rolled his eyes. "This has gone on far too long, don't you think?"

"DUCK!" a familiar voice shouted.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

_"Incarcerous!"_

Harry and Hermione dropped to the floor just in time to see two jets of light hit Pettigrew in rapid succession, the first sending their wands flying towards the newcomers while the second bound Pettigrew from head to foot in magical ropes.

"Harry!" Lupin shouted. "Hermione! Are you alright?"

"We're fine," Harry reassured him. He paled when he saw who Lupin's companion was.

"I think the question, Lupin," Snape said slowly, "is what these two are doing out of bounds?" Harry and Hermione quickly explained as best they could, but even when they'd finished, they both felt like they'd left out something important. Lupin had rushed to check on Ron as soon as he'd spotted him, but Snape's gaze was as impassive as ever.

"While we can easily confirm your story with Veritaserum and a Pensieve, you three are still out of bounds," he said. "I do believe all those points Gryffindor won in the Quidditch tournament might be in danger of disappearing tonight."

"Severus, can we focus on the more pressing issue here?" Lupin urged. "Ron's going to be fine, by the way. It was just a powerful Stunning spell, that's all. He'll be knocked out for a few hours yet, but he'll recover." He turned to Pettigrew. "What do you have to say for yourself, Peter?"

"Remus, my old friend," Pettigrew stammered. It was nothing like the cruel, confident tone he'd used with Harry and Hermione – he sounded timid, almost afraid. "You don't really think I did all that, do you?"

"At the moment, I trust Harry and Hermione quite a bit more than I do you, Peter," Lupin said coldly. "I reserve my judgment until we've confirmed their story, but rest assured that I am most definitely not on your side. Whether you regret it or not, you can't deny that it was your mistake that led to Voldemort's attack on the Potters."

"Unless I've missed something important, I do believe it's time to be heading back to the castle," Snape interrupted brusquely. After a brief discussion, they decided to bind Lupin and Pettigrew together for the journey, thinking it more secure than merely marching him along.

"Be warned, Peter, that if you transform, we will not hesitate to kill you," Lupin said. Pettigrew, his eyes wide, nodded his understanding, and the group filed slowly from the room, Crookshanks leading the way while Snape levitated Ron's unconscious form at the rear.

The journey through the tunnel was quiet, the only sound the occasional snapping of twigs under their feet as they walked. Harry was apprehensive about what awaited them once they'd returned to Hogwarts – both Hagrid and Dumbledore could vouch for their whereabouts at sundown, but there was no denying that they were very much out of bounds later on, and Snape was a bit of a mystery still. Harry could recall a number of occasions where Snape had wanted to put him in detention for far less than this, and he couldn't see a way out of serious trouble this time.

Harry had no idea how much time had passed since they'd first gone down the willow's passage, but judging by the inky blackness of the sky when they emerged from the tunnel, he guessed it had to have been at least a few hours. The odd group made their way slowly across the lawn towards the castle, their feet shuffling through the cool grass. Just then, the clouds shifted to reveal a brilliant silver disc overhead – the full moon. Hermione gasped, and Snape stopped abruptly.

"The potion," he said suddenly. "Lupin, you didn't-"

"I did," Lupin interrupted quickly. "This morning – you left me an extra dose…" He could say no more, however, as he was human no longer. Harmless though he was thanks to the Wolfsbane, the large brown wolf still looked intimidating as it stared at them with large eyes before howling loudly and taking off across the grounds.

"Harry, look out!" Hermione shrieked, but it was too late. Pettigrew, having taken advantage of everyone else's momentary focus on Lupin's plight, had snatched up a wand, Stunned Snape, and transformed, darting away rapidly towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Dammit!" Harry yelled angrily, running after the rat.

"Harry, we'll never find him in the dark!" Hermione shouted back as she raced after him.

"We have to try!" Harry nearly snarled. "That monster sold my parents to Voldemort and doesn't feel guilty in the slightest – I can't let him get away!" They raced down the lawn as fast as they could, but the moon wasn't giving them nearly as much light as they needed.

"Let's split up," Harry suggested. "You go that way, towards the lake, and I'll go towards Hagrid's."

"Be careful, Harry," Hermione implored him as she threw her arms around him. "Pettigrew's dangerous – he won't hesitate to kill you if he feels threatened!"

"I know, Maya, I know," Harry said. Without another word, they lit their wands and hurried off in opposite directions.

Hermione knew she'd gone too far as soon as she reached the lake – for one thing, the lake was both far too deep and far too wide for a rat to swim across (if they could even swim in the first place – she wasn't sure), and for another, the rocky terrain surrounding the water didn't provide any good hiding places. No, she was sure that Pettigrew hadn't come this way. As she turned to leave, however, she felt something she'd only felt once before, on the train to Hogwarts: a bone-chilling, fear-inducing cold.

"Oh no, oh no," she muttered. She turned slowly, deathly afraid of what she was about to see, and screamed. Dozens of dementors were gliding across the lake, chunks of ice appearing on the water's surface as they neared her. Hermione backed up, desperately trying to remember the incantation for a Patronus.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ she cried. She managed a silver cloud similar to Harry's, but nothing remotely close to the magnitude she'd need to drive off such a horde.

_"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"_ Again and again Hermione tried to protect herself, but she was outnumbered fifty to one, if not more, and the dementors were rapidly draining her of what little strength she had left.

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was a blinding flash of white light.

* * *

**A/N: So...did anybody know before this chapter that Pettigrew was behind all that? :D**

**I promised two chapters today, so here we go - hard to resist when things get exciting. Two more chapters to go in this one, methinks.**

**Forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but 'Circumstances...' is now officially my most followed/faved/reviewed story - thank you to everyone who made that happen! I really appreciate all the support & hope you're all enjoying this.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	19. The White Wolf

Hermione groaned as she rolled over onto her back and attempted to stretch in the narrow, unfamiliar bed. She blinked once, twice, three times as her surroundings came into focus - white, sterile, nondescript. The hospital wing. A quick scan of the room showed Ron asleep in the bed across from hers, and Harry lying in the one immediately to her left. When she saw that he was awake, she started.

"Harry!" she whispered. "Are you alright?" Harry readjusted his position to face her, wincing as he did so.

"Think so," he replied. "Ran into a bit of trouble in the forest - wasn't paying attention to where I was going and tripped. No idea what I landed on, but it was sharp enough that I broke...something."

"Something?" Hermione repeated, unable to hide an amused smile.

"Yeah...Madam Pomfrey didn't really tell me - or if she did, I was too out of it to really pay attention. All I know is that I'm wearing enough bandages to cover Dobby from head to toe, and that it hurts like hell to move." He shifted slightly, his blanket falling down in the process, and Hermione saw that nearly the entirety of Harry's torso was covered in the white strips.

"Oh, Harry," she said. "I'm sorry you're hurt. Is Ron alright?"

"The Stunner wore off about fifteen minutes ago, and Madam Pomfrey gave him something for it - he said he was all sore, and considering he crashed into a wall, I don't blame him. Whatever she gave him, it knocked him back out again, but she said he just needs to sleep it off and he'll be fine in the morning. What about you? I don't really know what happened after we split up..."

"So it wasn't you, then?" Hermione asked.

"Wasn't me, what?"

"Harry, I ran into the dementors down by the lake," Hermione whispered. Harry's eyes widened in horror.

"What happened?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I...I don't really know," Hermione admitted. "I tried to cast a Patronus, I really did, but I've obviously never practiced it before, so I could only get the same mist stuff you did. I finally blacked out, but right before I did, I saw this really bright light - I thought it was a Patronus, because since I'm here talking to you now, the dementors obviously didn't get to me, but..."

"I'm the only person you know who knows how to cast one," Harry finished for her, "and mine's certainly not that good. Well, Lupin does too, I suppose, but he's not really in any state to hold a wand tonight, is he? I wonder who it was..."

"No idea," Hermione said with a yawn. "Whoever it was, though, I probably owe them my life."

Just then, the ward's door opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore.

"Ah, I see you two are awake," he said as he strode towards them. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better, but I'm alive," Harry replied.

"I'm alright, sir - just tired," Hermione said. Dumbledore nodded.

"Good. I'd like to ask you to listen carefully for just a moment. Cornelius Fudge - do you know who he is?" Harry and Hermione's expressions darkened.

"We do indeed," Hermione said shortly. "He's the Minister of Magic." Dumbledore chuckled.

"Of course - I'd forgotten about that little incident over the Christmas holidays. Do forgive me. As I was saying, Minister Fudge is currently sitting in my office, where he and I have just heard the most extraordinary story from one Professor Snape. Severus told us that tonight's events - of which I must admit I don't know the full tale, as he was only able to tell us his version of things - surrounded Peter Pettigrew. Is this true?" Harry and Hermione immediately began talking.

"Professor, he had no remorse, none-"

"He cursed Ron and was about to kill us-"

"We tried to catch him, but he got away-"

"He might still be out there, on the grounds-"

"That's enough," Dumbledore said gently, cutting them both off. "I'm sure you have quite the thrilling tale to tell, but I'm afraid there isn't time. The most pressing matter lies with Minister Fudge, who refuses to believe what he's heard."

"But we'll submit to truth serum, and I'll gladly give my memories for a Pensieve..." Hermione began, but Dumbledore held up a palm to stop her.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Miss Granger, I'm afraid Minister Fudge has trouble accepting anything that does not provide concrete evidence, nor is he willing to accept such a story based on the word of two teenagers. While I believe you, I'm sorry to say that the only way he'd be willing to see further evidence would be if we had Pettigrew himself."

"But...that's impossible," Harry said. "Pettigrew could be anywhere by now."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore agreed, "although what at first seems impossible sometimes can, in fact, be undone." He gave Hermione a pointed look at this, but she wasn't sure why.

"I must leave you now," he said, retreating towards the door. "It wouldn't do to keep the minister waiting. Do think about what I've said, won't you?" With one last nod, he was gone.

"I don't get it, Hermione," Harry said. "It's almost like he was trying to give us a hint or something, but I have no idea what, or why..." Hermione didn't speak. She looked lost in thought.

"Why does his last statement ring a bell somehow?" she murmured.

"What statement was that?" Harry asked.

"He said 'impossible can sometimes be undone', or something like that."

"Oh, of course!" With a little bit of difficulty, Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the slip of parchment he'd shown her earlier that day.

"Look!" he said, pointing to the last line of the prediction. "I know most of what Professor Trelawney says is rubbish, but what if this is real?" Hermione stared at the writing.

"It does kinda make sense," she said slowly. "I mean, Friday is the fifth day...I just don't know..."

"Except I don't see how the sun could set again," Harry said. "I mean, everything only happens once a day, so unless we-"

"Harry, that's it!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What is?" Harry asked, jumping a little at his friend's sudden outburst.

"I don't have time to explain," she said, hurriedly throwing back her covers. "I've got to talk to Dumbledore, right now, but I promise I'll tell you everything in a little bit." After looking to make sure Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight, she quickly ran from the room. She was worried that she didn't know where the headmaster had gone, but she didn't have to go far - he was still standing outside the hospital wing, even though she and Harry had talked for a good few minutes.

"Miss Granger," he greeted her pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

"There is something we can do, isn't there?" she asked breathlessly. "Something I could do." She fiddled with her shirt collar as she spoke, and Dumbledore understood.

"Indeed there is," he said, his eyes twinkling. "You must be very careful, but if you are, I think you might be able to change more than one 'impossible'." He glanced at his watch. "It is currently...five minutes to midnight. Three turns should do it, I should think. I suggest you leave from the entrance hall. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said. "I'll do my best." The old headmaster nodded at her, and she took off as fast as she could without drawing any attention to herself. The last thing she needed was to be caught by Filch.

"Three turns...three turns," she muttered as she hurried along.  
When she reached the entrance hall, Hermione was surprised to see a familiar back just about to disappear down the steps to the dungeons.

"Draco!" she called as loudly as she dared.

"Lotte? What are you doing down here?" he asked.

"I think the better question is, where were you earlier?"

"Huh?"

"You weren't at dinner, and you didn't answer when I asked through the parchment," Hermione said.

"Oh...I went to dinner a little earlier than usual - Blaise, Tracey, and I were planning to hang out afterwards and wanted to get an early start - but something I ate didn't agree with me, and I ended up in the hospital wing instead. I got out about a half hour or so ago - you know how Madam Pomfrey is - but only just got down here because I got stopped by Filch and had a hell of a time convincing him where I'd been," Draco explained. "My parchment's down in my bag, so I didn't get your message - I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Hermione reassured him. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"Tired, definitely, but otherwise fine," Draco said. A thought occurred to Hermione just then.

"Draco...you trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," Draco said slowly. "Why do you ask?" In response, Hermione reached into her shirt and withdrew a fine golden chain. At first, Draco thought it was her necklace from Sirius, but he quickly saw that this one was much longer. The pendant attached to the chain was an intricate hourglass, but he didn't have much chance to look at it before Hermione had looped the chain around his neck.

"Lotte, what-"

"Shush," she said quickly. She began to turn the hourglass over. "One...two...three."

The hourglass finally stopped spinning, and at first glance, it appeared that nothing had changed. However, they soon heard voices - far too many voices to be out and about at midnight.

"In here," Hermione said, pulling Draco into the nearest broom closet. She shut the door just enough that she could still see out, not wanting anyone to notice the oddity.

"Lotte, what's going on?" Draco asked.

"We've gone back in time," Hermione said. "Three hours back, to be precise." She held out the little hourglass, which was glittering slightly in the dim light. "This is a Time-Turner - it's how I've been getting to all my classes this year. Professor McGonagall had to go through a lot of trouble to get me one, so normally I wouldn't dare use it for something other than my studies, but this is a bit of a special situation..."

"We've gone back in time," Draco said, still staring at the hourglass. "We've actually gone back in time...wow. So...while that's really cool and all, why?" Hermione bit her lip.

"We ran into Peter Pettigrew a few hours ago," she said quietly. She quickly explained everything that had happened since dinner, including Professor Trelawney's prediction.

"Sweet Salazar," Draco muttered once she'd finished. "You're all lucky to be alive...so we've come back to try and catch Pettigrew?"

"I think so," Hermione replied, "but I have no idea how, nor do I get why Dumbledore said we should come back as far as we did."

"Well...where were you three right about now?" Draco asked.

"We were down at...Hagrid's. Oh!" Hermione glanced up at him, a small smile on her face. "Dumbledore told me we might be able to 'change more than one 'impossible'' - we can save Buckbeak!" She poked her head out the door, and when she was sure the coast was clear, she motioned for Draco to follow her. They hurried across the entrance hall and slipped out the castle's front doors.

"We're going to have to run - one of the most important laws of time travel is that you can't be seen," Hermione explained. "If you run into someone who's just seen your other self - or worse, you actually see your other self - the consequences could be disastrous." Draco must've understood, as he didn't ask any further questions. "To the forest, hurry!" They raced across the lawn as fast as they could, not stopping until they reached the shelter of the forest's edge.

"We're not going to be running like that all night, are we?" Draco asked as he caught his breath. "I know we're both in fairly decent shape, but still..."

"No, I don't think so," Hermione said. "We'll be out of the way now. Let's get closer to Hagrid's - if we're going to save Buckbeak, we've got a really small window in which to do it, so we have to know what's going on."

Getting Buckbeak free was a harrowing experience, to say the least. First, in spite of their extreme time constraint, they had to follow protocol and bow to the hippogriff. Thankfully, Buckbeak returned the gesture almost immediately, and they hurried forward to untie his bonds. Draco offered up a nifty little spell that cleanly severed the rope from the fencepost, and they managed to get Buckbeak to follow them into the trees. They were both breathing heavily by the time they finished, but their work wasn't over. The hardest part by far came when the group in Hagrid's hut emerged - as soon as Buckbeak caught sight of Hagrid, he began straining on the rope, doing his best to return to his master. It took all of Hermione and Draco's combined strength to get him to stay put, and it wasn't until Hagrid had left the scene entirely that Buckbeak relaxed, his head drooping sadly.

"It's ok, Buckbeak," Hermione whispered, running her fingers through his soft feathers. Buckbeak still looked upset, but he chirruped and leaned into her touch, nuzzling her hand affectionately.

"What now?" Draco asked.

"We wait," Hermione said simply. "We were in the Shrieking Shack for quite a while, so there isn't much for us to do until then. We should move closer to the Willow, though, so we'll know what's going on." She hadn't said so aloud, but she'd been relieved beyond words to discover that the thumping sound she'd heard earlier was, in fact, the executioner's axe hitting the fencepost in frustration. So far, mission accomplished.

They made their way through the Forbidden Forest, taking care to stay close to the tree line. About halfway to their destination, they heard a twig snap and turned abruptly.

"Good evening," said a voice. Hermione and Draco were startled to see that the voice belonged to a centaur. His coat was a pale palomino, and he was staring at them with large, inquisitive eyes.

"Such an odd group," the centaur said. "What brings you into the forest so late at night? You are Dumbledore's, yes?"

"Er...yes, we're students," Hermione said, not quite sure how to reply. The centaur nodded, encouraging her to continue, and she found herself telling him all about Buckbeak. She wasn't sure why, but she knew without questioning it that she trusted the centaur.

"I see," the centaur said once Hermione had finished. "That is most unfortunate. But I might be able to help you, if you'll let me. You see, my kind are very much against the harming of the young and innocent."

"How...how could you help us, er..." Hermione faltered. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Do forgive me," the centaur said. "My name is Firenze." He gave a slight bow, which Draco and Hermione automatically returned as they introduced themselves in kind. They couldn't say why, but the gesture felt right.

"Dumbledore has sent you to save the hippogriff, no?" Firenze asked. When they nodded, he continued, "Dumbledore is well respected by the Wizarding world, including the inhabitants of this forest. I sense your task is not yet complete, yet would be very difficult in current company. If you are agreeable to the idea, I would be honored to watch over the hippogriff until such time that your work is done." Hermione and Draco looked stunned.

"You...you would do that for us?" Draco stammered.

"Indeed, young one," Firenze replied. "It is an honor and a privilege to help Dumbledore in any way I can. The stars have foretold it, and so it shall be."

"Thank you," Hermione breathed. "Please let us know if there is any way we can repay you." She introduced Firenze to Buckbeak, and the two exchanged bows. Buckbeak took an immediate liking to the centaur, who had offered him some sort of treat and was now scratching the back of his feathered head.

"Be careful," Firenze warned them. "Not all who roam these woods are so friendly. May safety go with you."

"Thank you, Firenze," they said. With a bow and one last pat for Buckbeak, the pairs went their opposite ways.

"Centaurs really are quite amazing, aren't they?" Hermione said as they walked. Soon, they could see the Whomping Willow, its branches swaying eerily in the moonlight. They took a seat at the base of a large oak, and Hermione glanced at her watch.

"Shouldn't be too long, now, I wouldn't think," she said.

"Do you really think we can catch Pettigrew?" Draco asked.

"I hope so," Hermione replied, not once removing her focus from the Willow. "It'll be really difficult, though - it's so dark, and he turned back into a rat before he fled..."

"I've got an idea!" Draco said suddenly. "Don't move - I'll be right back." Without pause, he hopped to his feet and took off.

"Where are you going?" Hermione hissed, but it was too late. Draco was gone.

As the seconds ticked by, Hermione grew nervous and began to pace. Where had Draco gone? Was he going to be back in time? She let out a huge breath of relief when he finally reappeared, carrying something in his hands.

"I noticed these sitting next to Hagrid's hut when we cut Buckbeak free," he said as he set the object down. Upon closer inspection, it was a little cage. "I think I've seen him use them in Care of Magical Creatures class before."

"Draco, you're brilliant!" Hermione said. "If we can get Pettigrew in here somehow, I know a spell that will make it impossible for him to transform and escape."

"Perfect," Draco replied. Movement near the Willow caught his eye and he turned. "Here you come - oh, that's really weird. You're here, but you're there..." Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little. It _was_ a really weird concept, especially if you weren't used to it.

"Any moment, now," Hermione whispered as the full moon appeared. They watched Lupin change form and bound off into the forest, Hermione saying a silent thank you to whoever was listening that he hadn't come their way. The werewolf's keen sense of smell could have given them quite a bit of trouble.

"Dammit!" They heard Harry shout.

"Get ready!" Hermione said. "I can only hope we're in the right place..."

It wasn't long before the nearby leaves rustled much more than usual, and Hermione and Draco both pointed their wands at the disturbance.

_"Stupefy!" _They hissed. Twin jets of red light shot towards the forest floor. When they dared move forward, it was to find a large rat lying prone in the leaves.

"We did it!" Hermione squealed. "Quick, put him in here!" They transferred Pettigrew into the cage, and Hermione both locked and charmed it against escape.

"That'll teach you to mess with a Mudblood," she said, glaring at the rat.

"Lotte!" Draco admonished. "Don't call yourself that!" Hermione looked at him.

"What? I'm proud of who I am, Dragon. It's just a word – and not a very effective one at that. Sticks and stones, you know?"

"If you say so," Draco replied. "Anyway, what now? Where did you two go after you split up?"

"Well, I'm not sure which way Harry went, but I ended up by the lake…" Hermione trailed off, shuddering a little at the memory of the dementors.

"Let's go that way, then," Draco suggested. "It probably makes more sense to follow you anyway." They followed the tree line towards the lake, skirting around the outer edges in order to avoid any chance of encountering past-Hermione. There was a little clearing not far from the water's edge, and they sat down beneath the trees – from there, they could easily see across the lake's gently rippling surface. The night was still and calm, but it wasn't long before they heard faint sounds coming from the lake's rocky shore. Past-Hermione had arrived.

"Holy Merlin," Draco muttered as the dementors appeared. Hermione's face was white, and though they couldn't see past-Hermione's expression, they could hear her shouts of _"Expecto Patronum!"_

"Any moment, now," Hermione said softly. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the dementors and her past self, and she looked scared. Had she been wrong?

"You thought it was a Patronus," Draco remarked, more to himself than anyone else. According to what Hermione had told him, the dementors ought to be gone by now…but they were most definitely still there, and past-Hermione was in serious trouble. Draco himself was having a hard time blocking out his mother's cries and his own whimpers of pain, which had started when the dementors arrived and were reaching an unbearable volume.

"Oh…_oh,"_ he said suddenly, quickly getting to his feet and raising his wand. The idea was a risky one, but what if…

"Lotte," he said as he stared at the dementors, "you didn't die then, and you sure as hell aren't going to die now. _Expecto Patronum!"_

Both students were momentarily blinded as a brilliant ball of light lit up their clearing before speeding forward across the lake. As their eyes adjusted, they caught a glimpse of four legs and a tail, but the creature was too far away to discern much more. The Patronus raced towards the dementors, who cowered with fear and fled without a backward glance, and it gently nudged past-Hermione before trotting back towards the clearing.

"Oh, my," Hermione breathed as the creature came into focus. It was a wolf, sleek and powerful, its silvery form glittering softly in the moonlight.

"Its…wow…" Draco whispered. He cautiously stepped closer to the wolf and stretched out his hand as if to touch it. The wolf padded forward in kind, its large eyes fixed on Draco, and gently bumped its snout against the boy's extended fingers. Draco gasped – though the Patronus was nothing but air, he could've sworn he'd actually felt the connection. The wolf nodded its head slowly before gradually shimmering into nonexistence, leaving them in darkness once more.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, both too in awe over what had just happened to even try. It was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

"Draco," she said, "how did you do that?"

"I…I don't know," Draco replied, still looking stunned. "I've tried a couple times – you know, after Harry told us about his lessons with Moony – but I've only ever managed this indistinct cloud, kinda like what Harry can do. Never…that." He gestured vaguely towards the spot where the wolf had been. Across the lake, they could see a figure – it looked like Snape – conjure a stretcher for past-Hermione. Identical stretchers, no doubt bearing Harry and Ron, floated behind him.

"I know it was a risky idea, but I had a feeling it might work because in a weird way, I'd already done it – if I understand your time travel stuff, wouldn't I have also cast the Patronus that drove away the dementors the first time?" Draco asked.

"Strictly speaking, there was only 'one time'," Hermione corrected him, "but yes, you're right. And now I owe you my life."

"If you want to get technical, the dementor would've taken your soul, not your life," Draco countered. "But as your soul is what makes you, you, I wouldn't have liked that very much. You're not going to get away from me so easily, you know." Hermione smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand.

"Regardless, I'm incredibly grateful, and I'm in your debt," she said. The moonlight glanced off her watch, and she yelped as she noticed the time.

"We've got to hurry!" she cried, hurriedly jumping to her feet. "We have to get back to the castle, get Pettigrew to Dumbledore, and me back to the hospital wing before anyone notices I'm gone, all without running into anyone…oh, _Merlin,_ this is gonna be impossible…" They took off as fast as they could, not bothering to stay in the trees anymore – anyone who could possibly see them out here was already gone.

"If the front door's locked, we're done for!" Hermione panted as they ran. Luckily, they encountered no such obstacle – perhaps Snape had accidentally left it open when he'd brought his charges inside. They were hurtling along a first floor corridor when they ran into the last person they wanted to see.

"Well, well, well," Filch said, his narrowed eyes not helping the sour expression on his face one bit. "Students out of bed, eh?"

"We've got to see Professor Dumbledore, immediately!" Hermione cried. "Please, let us by!"

"You really think that's gonna work, girl?" Filch growled. "A likely story…the only place you're going is straight to detention for the rest of the term!"

Hermione and Draco didn't bother to point out that term was over – they were going back to London in just a few days. Instead, they bolted as fast as they could in the opposite direction, taking a shortcut through a nearby tapestry, the grumpy old caretaker trailing them the whole way. Their sides ached from so much running, and the animal cage kept painfully smacking the side of Draco's leg, but they didn't dare stop – too much was at stake. Finally, they rounded a corner and found themselves outside the hospital wing. Past-Hermione had gone – how they hadn't run into her was a miracle in and of itself – but Dumbledore was still there, gazing serenely at them as if they'd just dropped in for tea instead of gone for a midnight sprint.

"Well?" he asked. Hermione and Draco were still panting heavily, but they managed to exchange triumphant grins as Draco extended the cage.

"We did it!"

* * *

**A/N: Whoa, that was a long chapter - my longest yet! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find the meanings of different animals? If anybody knows any decent sources for that sort of thing, please do let me know...**

**One more chapter in this one, and then we're on to part 4! I'm excited. Thanks for all your support, as always!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	20. Homeward Bound

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Ginny said as she passed around half a dozen chocolate frogs. "You're telling me that Scabbers, the most useless rat who ever lived, is really…"

"Peter Pettigrew," Hermione finished, tearing open her treat. "Yup." She examined the collector card – Hengist of Woodcroft, the founder of Hogsmeade – and took a bite of the frog, allowing the creamy chocolate to melt in her mouth.

_"Hermione!"_ Ginny whined. "You can't possibly just say 'yup' and leave it at that! Tell me what happened!" Harry and Draco laughed at Ginny's eagerness and impatience. The last few days had been such a whirlwind that they hadn't yet managed to tell Ginny – or anyone, for that matter – the full story of what had happened that night, and it was only now that they were on the train back to London that they finally had a long stretch of time in which to do so.

"Well, it all started when Hermione, Ron and I headed down to Hagrid's just before Buckbeak's execution," Harry began. He then proceeded to weave the full tale as best he could, Hermione chipping in missing details as he went. Draco listened just as intently as Ginny – though Hermione had given him a brief rundown of things when they'd gone back in time, she hadn't had time to explain further, and he was interested to hear the story in its entirety. When Harry and Hermione finally finished – it took them the better part of an hour – Ginny stared at them for a long moment before she finally found her voice.

"How is it that you guys are such adventure magnets?" she asked with a laugh. "I mean, holy Merlin…but, hang on. You said that Scabbers got away, but…"

"He did, initially," Hermione said, "or at least, that's what we thought." She launched into her part of the story, explaining all about the Time-Turner and her conversation with Dumbledore, her meeting with Draco, and their subsequent departure into the past.

"Just when I thought things couldn't get any more interesting, you throw time travel into the mix," Ginny said, looking awed. "How'd you get one of those things, anyway?"

"Well, I don't have it anymore," Hermione said. "I turned it in this morning, after I formally dropped Divination and Muggle Studies."

"Muggle Studies?" Draco asked, looking confused. "Why? You had the highest final exam score in that class that Hogwarts has seen in centuries – or probably ever, actually."

"I know," Hermione said, "but the class just wasn't that interesting, to be honest. Professor Burbage is sweet and everything, but studying Muggles from a Wizarding perspective really wasn't all that great – most of it was stuff I already knew, not nearly as much of a difference as I was expecting. I could see how it would be a great class for someone who knew nothing about Muggles, but it just didn't do it for me. Anyway, now that I've dropped those two classes, I can go back to having a normal schedule next year."

"Still packed, of course," Harry said cheekily. "Three electives and all…"

"Hey, that's not fair!" Hermione protested. "It's not like I'm the only one who takes three…" She stuck out her lower lip in a slight pout and Harry laughed, giving his friend an affectionate squeeze.

"I'm just teasing you, Maya," he said. She punched his shoulder in response but smiled all the same.

"So what happened next?" Ginny pressed. "We got sidetracked talking about Time-Turners."

"Oh, right," Draco said. "Sorry about that. So Lotte drags me out of the broom cupboard and across the grounds until we're in the Forbidden Forest, where we have to sit and listen to the guy from the Ministry drone on and on in the most boring tone you've ever heard…" He carried on until the part about the dementors, then faltered. Hermione looked over at him, not sure why he'd stopped.

"How'd you get away from the dementors?" Ginny asked. "Was it really a Patronus you'd seen, or was it something else?"

"It was a Patronus," Hermione said, "and it was Draco's."

_"What?"_ Ginny gasped. "But…how? Not that I don't think you're capable of it," she added hastily, "but it must've been so powerful…"

"Show them, Dragon," Hermione encouraged. She suspected that Draco had stopped talking when he did because he hadn't wanted to brag about being able to do such powerful magic, and he was probably hesitating to draw his wand now for the same reason – he'd never really liked being the center of attention. Draco met her gaze and must've seen something encouraging, because he nodded and raised his wand.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

The silver wolf burst into being once more, wagging its tail and sniffing each member of the compartment before seating itself on the floor beside its caster, peering up at everyone with its large eyes. Just as he'd done in the clearing by the lake, Draco reached out a hand towards the wolf, and the creature touched its nose to Draco's fingertips before vanishing.

"Damn, Drake," Harry said, looking impressed. "That's unbelievable." Draco flushed a little but grinned in reply, encouraged by his brother's positive reaction.

"So then we had to run for it, because it was really close to midnight by that point," Hermione continued. She quickly finished the tale, bringing them to the point when she and Draco had met Dumbledore outside the hospital wing.

"And then you took Scabbers to Fudge," Ginny said. "I'll bet that was hilarious."

"It was," Hermione agreed, chuckling a little, "but it was tiring too…"

* * *

_"Well done," Dumbledore said, nodding approvingly. "I look forward to hearing the whole adventure, but for now, I think it's time we headed to my office."_

_"Um…Professor?" Hermione said. "I don't mean to be rude, but Harry should probably be a part of this discussion too, shouldn't he? And I'm supposed to be in the hospital wing as of…two minutes ago…"_

_"Of course – forgive me for forgetting," Dumbledore said. "In that case, we'll bring the discussion to you instead." He opened the door to the hospital wing and ushered them inside. "Mr. Black, I'm sure you can come up with a viable excuse for being here if Madam Pomfrey asks – you three are certainly here often enough. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll be back with the Minister very soon."_

_Dumbledore was true to his word – barely five minutes had passed before he returned to the hospital wing, Cornelius Fudge in tow. The portly little man seemed very confused at the change of location and kept staring suspiciously at the ward's occupants. Harry, Draco, and Hermione, who had been talking quietly, immediately stopped and waited to see what he would do._

_"Dumbledore," he said, "I've already told you that I can't possibly accept the word of mere teenagers without some sort of evidence…"_

_"Ah, but they do have evidence, Cornelius," Dumbledore interrupted politely. "Mr. Black – the rat, if you will?" In their haste to summon the Minister, Draco hadn't actually handed over the cage containing Scabbers, and so he lifted it up off the floor and presented it to the headmaster._

_"I believe you are aware that there is a spell that will force an Animagus to resume his or her human form, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked. When Fudge nodded, Dumbledore continued, "Allow me to perform said spell on this rat for you, right now. As you know, if it happens to be an ordinary rat, it will not be harmed in any way." Dumbledore carefully unlocked the cage, taking care to make sure that Scabbers was still Stunned, and levitated the rat onto a nearby cot. With a wave of his wand, the rat rapidly changed form, morphing into a man once more._

_"Do you recognize him, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked quietly. Harry, Draco, and Hermione gazed intently at the Minister, who had gone deathly white._

_Did he recognize him? Of course he did – how could he not, with the man's face plastered all over nearly half the available surfaces in the Auror department? Dumbledore had immediately made it known who was responsible for what had happened the night James Potter died, and though Fudge had needed some persuading, he'd eventually caved and sent out the alarm. Though Pettigrew had vanished without a trace, the man on the cot hadn't changed all that much from the impressionable, rather timid youth Fudge had known. Sure, he was missing quite a bit more of his hair, and his body looked like he'd lost a lot of weight in a short period of time – spending more than a decade as a rat couldn't have done anything good for his physique – but there was no mistaking the Stunned man's identity._

_"Well?" Dumbledore prodded gently. In response, Fudge turned even whiter – if that was even possible – gave a little squeak of fright, and promptly fainted._

* * *

"He fainted?" Ginny gasped, unable to hold back her laughter. "He actually _fainted?"_

"Did he ever!" Harry confirmed, laughing quite a bit himself. "Toppled right over on the floor – it took Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey a good ten minutes to revive him fully."

"And then?"

"And then began one of the longest out-of-court interrogations known to man," Hermione said with a groan. "It took ages for Fudge to stop believing that Pettigrew was some sort of hallucination. Then they had to question all of us under Veritaserum – Fudge wasn't convinced that we weren't lying, so we had to take it too – then they had to spell Pettigrew back into his rat form so they could put him back in the cage for transportation, then Fudge insisted on talking in that drawn-out way he does…it was nearing three in the morning by the time we finally got to sleep."

"No wonder you all looked dead the next morning," Ginny remarked.

"You would too, if you'd gotten so little sleep after running around like that," Draco chuckled.

"Harry," Hermione asked suddenly, "did you ever find out what happened to the map?"

"Yeah – Moony had it," Harry replied. They all looked upset at the mention of their favorite teacher – discontent had been rising in nearby werewolf camps at an alarming rate, and Lupin would be returning to his work for the Order as soon as he could in an attempt to help. The chances that he'd be able to resume teaching in the fall were almost nonexistent.

"He found it on the main staircase just outside the Great Hall," Harry elaborated. "It must've fallen out of my pocket either right before or after dinner. In any case, he obviously knew what it was and activated it, and when he saw where we were going, and with whom, he followed us. He didn't really say how he met up with Snape – I think Snape was following him because he thought Lupin hadn't taken his potion. He gave me back the map this morning."

"I'm gonna miss Moony," Draco said. "He was definitely the best Defense teacher we've ever had, if not one of the best teachers, period."

"I agree," Hermione said sadly. "Hopefully Dumbledore can find someone just as good for next year, but it'll be hard."

"Hey, cheer up," Ginny said. "We've got a lot to look forward to until then – it's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! The UK hasn't hosted in Merlin knows how long, and Ireland, at least, has a decent chance of going pretty far – their Chasers are incredible!"

"Wouldn't it be great if we could go to a match?" Harry asked.

"Definitely," Draco agreed, "although we'd probably have to wear pretty heavy glamour charms, no?"

"It'd be worth it," Harry said. "Absolutely worth it."

The rest of the train ride was spent discussing Quidditch, Ireland's chances against some of their biggest competitors, which included the Nigerians, the Japanese, and a handful of teams from the Continent, and coming up with ways to coerce Lily and Padfoot into purchasing tickets. By the time they reached Kings Cross, their morose mood regarding Lupin had disappeared, and as the trio hugged Ginny goodbye and called well wishes to their other friends, they knew they were in for a summer just as exciting as the last.

* * *

**A/N: And that's that - the end of part 3! I hope you all liked Fudge's reaction - I certainly did.**

**THANK YOU, as always, to anyone who's read this series, as well as followed/faved/reviewed. You guys are the best. ****Chapter 1 of part 4, 'When Foreigners Come to Call', is now up - hope to see you there!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & off to part 4 we go! :)**


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